


If Only

by 1MissMolly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Pregnancy, Separate time lines, Spoilers for TGG and SIB, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1MissMolly/pseuds/1MissMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is an omega who is wanted by two different alphas. One is a sociopath the other a disgraced soldier. Both men would kill for John but which one will die for him. </p><p>Sebastian Moran had loved only one omega but lost the man when the doctor was shot in Afghanistan. Now he see the omega again but it is through the sights of his rifle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> John's life at two different points 2008 and 2010. I do not have a beta so please forgive any mistakes. I do not own anything but my love for the characters of Sherlock Holmes.

2008 Camp Bastion, Helmand Province, Afghanistan

“You’re an omega!”

“And you’re an alpha, but I won’t hold that against you.”

Colonel Sebastian Moran laid on the gurney looking up at the army doctor. The doctor was smaller than the other men working in the triage. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Skin tanned to a medium golden brown by the Afghan sun. Moran looked at the young blonde Army captain, surprised to see the doctor was an omega.

“But, what are you doing here?” Moran asked as the doctor quickly examined the man’s leg.

“Deciding if I am going to take you into surgery or just let the medic set your leg.”

John Watson held up an x-ray then removed the bandage on the colonel’s leg. He gently squeezed the wound as Moran hissed. The alpha growled but the omega seemed to ignore the threat. Moran collapsed back down on the gurney watching the doctor examined his wound. The omega’s scent was calming even though it was tainted with the slight bitterness of suppressants.

“Good news, Colonel. The wound is a through and through. Bone is clean break and you won’t need my skills.” The omega stood up straight and waved over an orderly. “Murray, take him to ortho. We need the bed for the real patients.” Moran growled again. The omega doctor finally acknowledged the alpha by smiling at the man. Not the response Moran was expecting. “Don’t worry Colonel Moran. The head of ortho is an omega too. I’m sure the two of you will get along fine.”

The doctor winked and stepped away from the injured man. Moran watched amazed as the smaller omega moved from gurney to gurney in the triage unit, and ordered his staff around. The captain quickly assessed each patient and determined their treatment before moving on to the next one. Moran knew that omegas were now fully intergraded into the army but he had never known one to be so fearless and intelligent. The injured men . . . mostly alphas . . . moaned and cursed, their anger and fear made the triage area a heavy soup of pheromones. Even Moran was having difficulty remaining calm in the haze of competing scents. He would have thought most omegas would be cowering in the corners, but the omega doctor ignored the pheromones and treated his patients.

The medic that the omega had called Murray started to push Moran’s gurney away. Moran twisted and looked over at the young doctor. He wanted to stay near the omega. Moran found him calming and reassuring.

“Omega! Come looking for me later!”

“Why?” the doctor shouted back as he read another file.

Moran growled again. The omega doctor didn’t turned to look at the alpha. Never before had an omega dismissed Moran so abruptly. Before Moran could answer the omega, Murray wheeled the man out of the triage and into the bright light of the Afghan sun. Moran spent the rest of the day in the ortho ward getting the gunshot wound in his leg stitched and the leg set. He growled at the omega who was setting his leg and the young man quickly bowed his head and dropped his hands down. Moran wondered why the doctor hadn’t shown the same deference to the alpha as a normal omega did.

Moran knew he was going to have to find the strange omega and determine why he was resistant to alpha domination. The colonel laid in his cot in the officer’s ward waiting till the young doctor came in for rounds. He wanted to speak to the young man again. When he did come in late the following day, the young man moved from bed to bed, reviewing the charts on the patients.

“Omega, come here.” Moran ordered.

Several of the other officers looked over at Moran. They growled softly at the man’s ordering the omega doctor. The omega looked up but simple waved over at Moran then returned his attention to the file.

“In a minute, sir. I’m needed here, right now.”

Again, the omega had ignored the alpha’s order. Moran felt a swell of anger towards the young man. He was used to being obeyed by his men and was never told to wait.

The young doctor checked on two more patients before he stepped over to Moran’s cot.

“Yes, sir. What do you need?” He asked. He briefly looked at Moran’s face but before the alpha could speak, the doctor picked up the chart hanging on the wall beside the head of Moran’s bed. He gave it a cursory look then set it back. “I’m not your attending. Do you need me to get Doctor Walters?”

“No, I don’t bloody well want Doctor Walters! I called you over!”

The blonde dipped his chin down and pulled the corners of his mouth down into a military scowl. Moran was familiar with the face staring at him. It was the same face he made just before he chewed the backside off a subordinate for doing something stupid.

“Sir . . . ?” The doctor’s voice dipped lower.

“Look, I just wanted to talk to you, omega.” Moran tried to make his tone seem friendly.

“Then I suggest you learn my name and use it . . . sir.” The omega was not going to be accused of insubordination.

“I . . . I apologize, om . . . Captain?”

“Captain John Watson.”

Moran smiled and held his hand out. “Colonel Sebastian Moran. Northumberland Fusiliers. Please call me Seb.”

John Watson looked down at the hand for a moment before he reached forward and shook it. Moran noticed John had a strong grip and callous fingers. Again something he was unfamiliar with regarding omegas. Weren’t they supposed to be weak and fragile? John Watson was anything but. He was strong and confident. He remained calm when other . . . when alphas were frightened and panicked.

“Captain Watson, do you play poker?” Moran regretfully let go of the man’s hand.

“Yes, I do.” John stepped back and let a small smile soften his expression.

Moran’s watery grey eyes watched as Watson’s deep blue eyes lightened and seemed to smile more than his face.

“Find a deck and come back after you’re off duty.”

“Two handed poker is not very challenging. When you’re on your feet again, come by the triage unit. We usually have a game going when there aren’t any patients in there.” John’s smile became larger. “Remember to bring your money.”

John turned to leave.

“Hey Watson, do you ever just sit and talk with your patients?”

“Yes, I do . . . but you’re not one of my patients.” John said over his shoulder as he kept walking to the door of the ward.

Moran watched as the young doctor stepped out of the unit. He was even more intrigued by the unusual omega. His calm confidence in the face of a dominant alpha. Watson’s relaxed yet still very military attitude. John Watson was a puzzle he would need to solve. Watson seemed to ignore the man, leaving while the other alpha officers watched him go.

Moran and Watson jogged across the tarmac in front of the hospital. Moran had been at the Kandahar Hospital for four weeks and had finished his physiotherapy. At first, his only contact with John Watson was when he hobbled into the triage late in evening to join the poker game. If he had doubted John’s skill at deceptiveness, then that night changed everything. John played poker with a cunning and sharpness that was lethal. All the while with a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Moran allowed he was only trying to learn the man’s tells as he stared unerringly at the omega for three hours that night. As it was, John left with the pot and most of Moran’s money that night.

He had started running with John as soon as the physical therapist gave him clearance to do so. At first, John had refused to allow the alpha to run with him, but Moran insisted. The other alphas that jogged with John in the morning had set a perimeter around John on the first several runs, not allowing Moran to get close to the smaller omega. John grew frustrated with the men and would suddenly veer off in new direction. The alphas would stumble and trip as they shifted to change direction and keep up with young man. They would quickly take their positions around the omega again but Moran was always just a little bit closer to John with each direction change.

Finally after a week of jogging with the group of alphas and betas, John decided to jog by himself. It took Moran two days to discover his route and follow him. When Moran moved up in step with John as he rounded the motor pool, John sighed and allowed the alpha to pace with him. The next day he didn’t even seem surprised to be intercepted by the alpha on the run. Now the two ran in comfortable silence together.

They finished their jog near the officer’s quarters, where John would wave goodbye and go in to shower. This time as they approached the double door, Moran slowed down and grabbed John’s upper arm. John stopped and looked up at the colonel.

“What?” John said as he kept walking forward, not wanting to let the muscles get cold and cramp.

“You’re on suppressants, correct?”

John cocked his head slightly to the side. The stern military glare returned. “That is considered an inappropriate question for a superior officer to ask another officer . . . sir.”

Moran felt the verbal slap. “No . . . no John. Calm down. I just want to . . . I’m going back to the Sangin. I need a doctor for my command. Have you ever considered going ‘in country’?”

John stopped walking and looked up at the colonel. John’s eyes were wide and his face full of astonishment.

“In country? Actual front line!? Honestly?! Yes . . . God, yes!”

“It’s not going to easy. The camp is attacked often and there are no niceties at all . . . none.”

“I’m a soldier just like you, sir.” John said, his voice taking on an edge.

“You’re also an omega and it will matter if you go up there. There aren’t any other omegas up there. You’ll be with two hundred men, mostly alphas.”

“I’m stationed here with over two thousand alphas. It is not going to be a problem. If it is that damn important . . . yes, I’m on the mandatory suppressants the military issues. Have been for years now. I don’t want an alpha, I bloody don’t need an alpha. I’m a soldier and a doctor. I can handle it.”

Moran smiled. “Good. I was hoping you would say that. I’ve already spoken to your XO and he is filling out the paperwork as we speak. And please, call me Seb.” 

 

2010 London, England

Moran looked though the scope of the rifle. He was stationed in the rafters above the pool. He had placed his other five shooters in various places around the pool. His boss wanted to make a point to the detective and Moran was going to do his best to fulfill his boss’ wishes.

Moran hoped this night would be over soon. The chlorine from the water was beginning to burn his nose and eyes. They had been waiting for an hour for the man to arrive. His boss had arrived with some stranger only minutes before. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew the detective was probably not going to leave the building alive once the boss was done speaking to him. He was glad. He was tired of the game his boss had been playing with the detective. It had cost them money and credibility and for what. Just to show off to this Sherlock Holmes. Whoever the devil he was.

Moran heard the slam of the door opening and closing. The dark haired man step into the empty room. Tall and skinny in a black suit. The light shimmering off the blue pool water illuminated the detective’s face.

“Brought you a little getting to know you present.” The detective said to the empty room. He spun around looking. Moran watched from his perch, as the young alpha held up the memory stick. “That’s what it’s all been for, hasn’t it.”

Moran saw movement from one of the curtained areas just off the pool. A blonde stepped out from behind the curtain and into the light of the pool. He was wearing a heavy coat with fur lined hood. His hands were in the pockets. Moran swung the rifle up and looked through the scope lens at the blonde. It was the stranger his boss had brought to the pool.

Suddenly, Moran’s heart leaped into his throat. He squeezed the grip of the sniper stock. His trigger finger resting on the edge of the metal frame.

“Evening . . . This is a turn up isn’t it, Sherlock.”

Moran whispered ‘John’ the same moment Sherlock Holmes did.

“Bet you never saw this coming.” John slowly opened the coat and revealed the bomb strapped to his chest. “What would you like for me to make him say next?”

Moran saw the red dot of the first sniper’s scope on the bomb right over John Watson’s heart. He wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening to John. Not to his John

“Cottle-gear, cottle-gear, cottle-gear . . .”

“Stop this.”

Moran eyes were sweeping from John’s face to the position of the other snipers in the room. Could he shoot the men before they shot John?

“Nice touch this . . . the pool where little Carl died . . . I stopped him . . . I can stop John Watson too . . . I can stop his heart.”

Moran saw as John fought to remain calm. Moran was beginning to panic. He wanted to leap from the rafters and down to the pool deck. He wanted to rip the bomb off John’s body and rush the omega to safety. Why wasn’t Holmes rushing to save John? Why was this happening? John, his John! He had wanted to see the omega again. He wanted to be there for John and now he was going to watch John die. He was going to watch as his boss order his men to shoot the omega he loved. The omega he wanted by his side.

A sweat bead rolled down the alpha’s temple. He licked his lips as his eyes moved quickly around the room. How could he stop this from happening? How could he rescue John? Suddenly he heard his boss scream.

“THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO!”      

Moran’s attention moved back to the three men on the pool deck. John, James and Holmes. When did the detective get a gun in his hand?

Moran watched as James Moriarty tossed the memory stick into the water. Suddenly, John rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Moriarty.

“SHERLOCK, RUN!”

“No, John don’t!” Moran whispered under his breath.

He blinked away the sweat cling to the corners of his eyes. He knew John would try something. He knew John wouldn’t stand by like a submissive omega. Moran watched as the sniper opposite him cued up his laser scope and pointed his rifle at Holmes’ head.

He listened as his boss threatened to ‘burn the heart’ out of the detective. The two men stood a mere five feet apart from each other. There was no way that Holmes could miss Moriarty if he pulled the trigger, but then he and John would be shot. John would die.

“I’ve been reliably informed I don’t have one.”

“We both know that not quite true.”

Moran watched has his boss turned his back on the detective and start to walk away.

“Catch you later.” Holmes said as his aim followed Moriarty from the pool deck.

“No you won’t.” Moriarty said in the high pitch voice Moran hated.

Holmes quickly dropped the gun and rushed forward to John. Dipping to his knees, he wrestled the explosive vest off the man.

“Alright . . . are you alright!”

John twisted and let Sherlock rip the coat and the vest off his body.

“Yeah, yeah . . . I’m fine . . . I’m fine.” John sagged. “Sherlock . . . SHERLOCK!”

Holmes flung the coat and bomb across the tiles, then rush after Moriarty. Moran watched as John panted, then collapsed forward. Catching himself on the edge of the wall. John twisted and slid down to floor. Moran let his breath go he had been holding and eased his grip off the rifle. He sighed and looked down. Saying a quick pray he hadn’t said in years.

Holmes returned. Moran looked back up. He eased himself back down on the rifle and fixed his sights on Holmes. The man was responsible for John being here. He was responsible of John almost being killed by Moran’s boss.

“I’m glad no one saw that . . .” Moran heard John’s whispered voice.

“What?”

“You ripping my clothes off in a darken swimming pool . . . people might talk.”

The image of Holmes laying hands’ on his omega made Moran slip his finger in through the trigger guard and rest his index finger on the metal trigger. He could feel the groves of the trigger under his skin. He started to breath slowly. Matching his breaths to his heartbeat.

Then he saw the laser light on John’s shirt.

“Sorry boys . . .” Moriarty had come back.

His laser on Holmes chest was joined by two other shooters’. If Holmes died, would Moriarty let John live? Moran wondered. He doubted it. He turned off the laser and moved the barrel of his rifle to point at his boss. If he kill Moriarty first, maybe . . . just maybe, he could save John.

Just before he was going to pull the trigger he saw Holmes point his gun not at Moriarty but at the explosive vest. Holmes was willing to sacrifice not only himself but John to stop Moriarty. ‘No, NO! . . . This couldn’t be happening’ Moran thought.

He tried to relax and focus. He tightened his grip on the rifle as his heartrate and breathing synchronized.

Then the sound of Moriarty’s ringtone filled the air of the room.

“Mind if I get that.” Moriarty said unstressed.

Moran’s rifle followed his boss as the man started walking across the pool deck. One shot, that was all he needed. One shot.

“SAY THAT AGAIN! . . . Say that again and know if you are lying to me I will find you and I will skin you.”

Moran lessened the pressure on the trigger. He watched as his boss kept pacing while speaking on the mobile. Moriarty paused the call.

“Sorry . . . wrong day to die.”

“Did you get a better offer?”

Moriarty walked away and snapped his finger. That had been the prearranged cue. The lasers were shut off. John was safe.

Moran pulled away from the rifle. His clothes were soaked with sweat. His muscle were tight and knotted with anxiety. He closed his eyes and tried to breath. John would be safe.

Moran watched as his boss left. The detective and doctor remained stilled before Holmes stepped over and helped John to stand. Moran noticed as soon as John was on his feet, Holmes stepped back and to give the omega space. Moran waited till the two men left the pool area, then he watched the other shooters moving slowly away. Hidden deep in the shadows. Moran slowly swung himself down from the rafters and on to the top row of seats. He moved quickly to his escape route and into the cold night. His body still damp with sweat.

John was alive. John Watson was alive and here in London. Sebastian Moran was going to find him and finally make the omega his.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2008 John settles in to the forward base.  
> 2010 Sherlock has a proposition for John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments. It does make it easier to write when I know someone is enjoying the story. I do tend to update quickly but that is dependent on my job. RL must come first. Also I know nothing about military life so please forgive the glaring mistakes I make in regards to the time in the Army.

2008 Sangin, Afghanistan

John Watson held the Browning up and aimed at the target thirty yards away.

“He won’t make it.” One of the alpha’s said standing behind Moran. The colonel smiled.

John started to shoot. One round right after another. Seven in all, under ten seconds. All seven rounds shredded the target’s bull’s eye. The three alphas standing behind Colonel Moran whistled. Pride washed over Moran as his watery grey eyes watched John released the magazine from the grip of the pistol with practice ease. He locked the action open and set the gun down on the shooting bench.

“Hey, omega, do you give private lessons?” the alpha who said he couldn’t do it asked.

The small omega ignoring the alpha as he turned and smiled at the Colonel. Moran arms were crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk of praise and admiration played at his lips. John Watson was unique and he was John’s closest friend.

Many of the alphas were uncertain how to react to the captain. Some had no problems following orders from the man, but others still regarded his second gender as a reason to test their dominance over the small omega. The first day he arrived, a lance corporal came up to John and looked the blonde up and down. The young soldier sneered as his hand rubbed over John shoulder blades and down his bare arm. A definite intimate gesture and unwelcomed.

“What’s a pretty little omega like you doing up here?”

John looked up at the tall thin lance corporal through his blonde lashes. Then John spun. Before Moran could yell at the corporal, Watson grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted. The lance corporal found himself face down in the hard pack dirt with John’s knee in the middle of his back.

“Saving lives of fucking wankers who have more balls than brains.” John hissed as he pressed his knee hard into the man’s back. “Touch me again and you’ll find out what a good doctor I am as I name each and every one of your bones I break.”

“Fuck, what’s up your arse!?” The corporal shouted into the dirt.

“Boy, you’re too stupid to know when to shut up.” Moran said as he stood over the two men.

John looked up at the Colonel. A wicked curl at the corner of his mouth. Moran smiled down at John.

“Let him up. I need someone on latrine duty for the next month.” Moran voice was joking but the threat was real. The lance corporal whined. Not only had been embarrassed by being knocked on his arse by the small omega, now he would have to clean up the camp’s shite for a month.

That was not the last time one of the soldiers tried to treat Captain John Watson as anything other than an Army doctor, but soon the men changed their minds. Quickly, he won over the respect of the men at the forward base with his skill as a doctor and his accuracy in shooting. John pulled more than his weight and played a smart hand at poker. Moran watched as John was accepted by the men as just another soldier.

Two months later John was an integral part of Moran’s command as any alpha. Moran stepped forward and stood next to John as the doctor carefully slipped forty-five caliber rounds into the metal magazine of the Browning.

“You know, John . . . if this doctoring doesn’t work out, you’ve got a future in Special Forces.”

“Sniper rifle is too heavy for my frame.” John said as he slipped the magazine back into the grip of the pistol.

“Let me work with you. I’ll teach you how to use your height in your favor. You’ve got the eye. That’s the part that can never be taught.”

A small smile came to John’s face at the compliment. He knew that Seb is being honest, but still it was nice to be praised by the experienced soldier.

“Thanks . . . sir.” John said. Moran smiled that this time there was a softness to the term that John had used as an insult in the past. John looked down at the targets at the end of the shooting ranger. He paused before he started to shoot again, turning back to the officer. “Colonel . . . Seb, I wanted to thank you for giving me a chance to be here . . . I mean . . . this is where I wanted to serve. I wanted to be here where I thought I could do the most good. I appreciate someone finally giving me the opportunity to be here.”

Moran felt the spark run through his body at John using his name. He wanted to hear the omega use it again and in the right circumstances. He took the advantage and slapped John on the shoulder in comradery. “No, John . . . you brought yourself here. You’ve proved you should be here.”

John nodded his head. He depressed the latch and the action closed on the pistol. John took up his stance and aimed the gun. Again he shot rapidly, placing every bullet through the bull’s eye.

 

2010 London, England

John and Sherlock waited till they were outside of the swimming pool before they called the Met just in case Moriarty changed his mind again. After relying the events to Greg Lestrade, the detective inspector insisted on John going to hospital to be checked out. John refused and insisted he would be fine at home. The two men argued till Sherlock stepped forward and wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders.

“Lestrade, trust the doctor to know what is best. If you need to speak to us, we will be at Baker Street.”

Sherlock pulled John away from the argument with Lestrade. He waved down a taxi and guided John into the backseat. As soon as the door was closed though, Sherlock moved quickly away from John’s side. He pushed himself into the corner and focused his attention to his mobile.

The two men climbed the stairs to 221B. It was past three in the morning. The adrenaline had drained from John’s body and he was feeling the effects of it. He was shaking, and his head throbbed.

He slowly walked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. It was route memory; he didn’t actually want anything to drink. He just felt comfort in the routine. John pulled two mugs down from the shelf and watched as the water started to boil in the glass kettle.

Sherlock still wearing his coat and scarf, wandered around the sitting room. He kept picking up items and examining them. Verifying their solidity as if they were been altered while the two men had been out. John turned and watched Sherlock for a moment. Sherlock moved from the sofa to the desk to the mantel then back to the desk.

“Cuppa?” John asked.

He thought his voice sounded muffled, like he was speaking from under a blanket. He felt the sound would not travel across the small space to the other man. Sherlock didn’t look up at John. Instead, he picked up an empty envelope that once had newspaper clipping in it. The sour smell of news print ink still clung to the paper.

“You’re an omega.” Sherlock said looking down at the envelope in his hand. John wasn’t sure if it was a question or statement.

John shivered. He didn’t want to think about why and blamed the condition of the room. The windows had not been replaced yet from Moriarty’s bombing. The room was cold as the night air seeped in around the wooden covers.

“Yes.”

Sherlock moved back to the fireplace. His fingers dragged across the crown of the skull sitting on the corner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I . . . I thought you knew . . . It never seemed to come up in our conversations and I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.” Sherlock said still not looking at John. “Not until I knelt . . . when I removed the bomb, I scented you.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“No . . . not really. It doesn’t change how we work together or the Work itself.”

“Good.” John turned back to the counter to fix the tea.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t . . . scent you before.”

“The suppressants I’m on. They lessen my scent. It was stronger when I was in the army.” John turned back to Sherlock who was now watching the doctor.

“Why was your scent was stronger in the army?”

“The alphas caused it to be stronger.”

“I’m an alpha.”

“Yes, but I was living with two hundred alphas around me daily. Now, it’s just you.”

“I’m not a strong enough alpha for your scent to be stimulated?”

“No, that’s not it . . . it has to do with the number of alphas not their strength. It’s a physiological response. The more alpha pheromones surrounding an omega, the more pheromones the omega puts out to encourage a bond. When there is only one alpha present the omega’s body believes a bond doesn’t need to be encouraged. Just biology, nothing more.”

Sherlock hummed then stepped further away from John again. He started to pace around the room.

“You didn’t know that or was that something you deleted?” John asked realizing he knew something Sherlock did not.

“If I deleted the information, how would I know if I knew it before?” Sherlock paused and looked up at John. “I need to go out.”

“Oh . . . it’s after three . . .”

Sherlock rushed to the door with his longest strides. “Don’t trouble yourself, John. Get some rest.” His feet hit the stairs at a near run.

“Don’t you want me to come with you?”

“No.” The shout came up the stairs.

“Should I wait up?”

“No.” John heard the door slam.

He turned as he heard the kettle click off. The water was boiling in the glass kettle, but John was too exhausted to even think about tea. He shrugged and stepped out the kitchen and towards his bed.

The next morning, John came into the kitchen. Sherlock was sitting at his microscope, a stack of slides beside his left hand.

“Mor’n . . .” John slurred through his yawn.

Sherlock’s eyes shift briefly from the oculars then back again.

“What time you get in last night?” John asked as he clicked the kettle on and then stretched. Yawning one more time.

“Just after five thirty. Molly had a patient who died of paracetamol overdose. The liver has the unusual ‘nutmeg’ appearance. Very interesting.”

John pouted. “Doctor, remember?” He pointed to himself. “Not very interesting at this time of the day . . .” John looked around. “What time is it?”

“Six forty-five. Saturday, if you didn’t remember.” Sherlock’s eyes shifted and looked up at the sleepy doctor.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Sherlock switched out the histology slide on the microscope stage for another slide.

John turned around, glad to know that the subject of their previous conversation was dismissed. He fixed the coffee.

“I’m going to fix a fry up. Should I make it for two?” John asked as he set a cup of sweetened coffee near Sherlock’s hand.

“Just toast for me.” Sherlock switched slides again. John smiled and proceeded to fix breakfast.

Two months later, John struggled up the stairs, burdened with several bags of groceries. He piled the bags on the kitchen table and looked around the corner to see Sherlock sprawled out across the sofa. His head resting on the arm while he studied the small cylindrical bottle in his hand. John sighed and knew it was a waste of time to ask for assistance putting the food away. He retrieved the fresh quart of milk and put it the refrigerator, removing the old milk first. He sniffed at it before he poured it down the drain.

“I would consider it if it was you.” Sherlock called out from across the flat.

“Been out shopping, Sherlock. You need to start the conversation from the beginning again.” John shouted back as he grabbed two cans of beans and reached up to set them on the shelf.

“I would consider bonding if it was you.” Sherlock said unfazed.

The can of beans slipped out of John’s grasp and smacked the counter hard. John remained frozen, his hand raised about his head, his shoulders pinched at his neck.

“What!? . . .”

“I said I would be willing to consider bonding with you, John.”

The doctor slowly turned and looked over at the man reclining on the couch. John stepped out of the kitchen and over towards Sherlock.

“Why do you think I want . . . are those my suppressants?!” John reached over and grabbed the bottle Sherlock had been turning over and over in his hands. “It was on by bed table! . . . Sherlock, I’ve told you to stay out of my room!”

“I believe bonding would be beneficial for both of us.” Sherlock ignored John’s complaint as he twisted gracefully to sit up on the edge of the sofa.

John stumbled back and collapsed into his chair. “Beneficial? How?”

“Studies show that omegas should not be on suppressants for prolong times. As best as I can assess you’ve been on them for at least five years, if you didn’t take them while you were training to become a doctor.”

“I was on them before. It’s been eighteen years. Before that I was on a low dose suppressant to reduce the effects of heats.”

“There, it is unhealthy for you to continue. And it would grant us no interruptions in the Work if we were bonded.”

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sherlock, bonding is not about letting me quit using suppressants, or making a working relationship more efficient. It’s about . . .”

“Respect and caring. I realize John. I realize a bond mate expects a certain amount of physical and emotional support for their partner and I feel you are the only person who is capable of providing that for me.”

John’s mouth fell open. “I . . . only person . . . what!?”

“John, please try to keep up. As I said before you when you weren’t listening.”

“When I was out at the shops.”

Sherlock waved the comment away. “As I said. We are better suited than any other pair of bond mates I know. We have lived together for over a year and a half. We work together. Share equally in all thing.”

“Not all things.”

“We not only respect one another but admire. And I have come to the realization that my feeling towards you have taken on a more physical admiration.”

“Physical admiration?” John knitted his brow as he narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. “You’re sexually attracted to me?” John noticed a slight blush to come to the detective’s pale cheeks.

“I . . . I . . . When Moriarty kidnapped you . . . when I saw that bomb strapped to you . . . I became frantic.”

“You seemed quite calm to me.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and squeezed his hands into two fists. “I realized how much I cared for you when I thought I would lose you. For weeks now I have fought with my emotions and fear. I've come to a conclusion . . . I don’t want to ever feel that fear again. I don’t want someone else to come in here and take you away from me.”

“Sherlock, I understand, but bonding? . . . I will always be your friend. I will always care for you. But do you really want to bond?”

“I see no other reasonable solution. We are friends. We are colleagues. We live together and work together. We care for each other. What better reason should there be for a bonding?”

John could feel a painful squeeze around his heart. He suddenly realized that he actually did have feeling for Sherlock. Strong, emotional feelings, but this was Sherlock.

“You’ve said over and over again that emotions were the corruption in the data, the virus in the computer hard drive. You are now telling me that you are willing to embrace that corruption?”

“It appears that my emotions are beyond my control. My body is more than transport and you, my dear Watson, are my cure.”

John could feel the burn of tears threatening his blue eyes.

“Sherlock, I am glad you’ve finally come to the realization that your body is more than transport but you don’t want to be . . . burdened with an omega like me. You are unique and remarkable. You are a genius and brilliant not only in your mind but . . . in every way imaginable.” John paused to regain control of his emotions. “I’m in my thirties. I’m plain and ordinary. I’ve been shot and my body is scarred. I suffer from PTSD. I’ve been on suppressants for years, there is no reason to believe I will be able to get pregnant. You deserve better than me. You should have an omega as remarkable as yourself.”

Sherlock sat up straight, his attention focused down on John’s face.

“John, everything you have just said that is truthful, proves how perfect you are to me. Truthful in that you are determined and dedicated. You are not plain and ordinary, you are astonishing. Instead of just making your way through life relying on others to care for you, you pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance. You have shown your loyalty to the point of self-sacrifice. You have tolerated my eccentricities. You’ve embraced my life. You reflect light back onto me to make everything else illuminate. It is I who would be unworthy of a bond mate like you. My God, John, you killed a man for me! How could there ever be anyone I could care for more than you?”

John felt the pain in his chest dissolve into an incredible warmth. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip as he stared at Sherlock. The honesty and intensity of Sherlock words filled John complete. It was a greater declaration of love than any sloppy romantic had ever penned.

Sherlock watched as a warm blush came over John’s cheeks. The blue of John’s eyes softened and his expression melted is adoration. Sherlock suddenly wanted to see that expression often on John’s face. He wanted to be the reason John looked that way. He too felt a similar warmth and a need as John.

“I will give you time to think about it, John. It is only right. Besides, my family is very old and I will be expected to do this properly. I will start courting you.”

“Courting me?” John blinked several times as if awakening from a day dream. “We live together. You’re going to court me?”

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock stood and stepped over to his coat and scarf. “I will prove my ability to provide and care for you.”

“Sherlock you don’t need to . . .” John was surprised by the sudden giggle that escaped his mouth. Sherlock ignored him and flung his giant black coat on.

“Yes . . . I’ll go to the shops and do the week’s shopping.” Sherlock rushed out of the flat. His steps tapping down the wooden steps.

“But I’ve already done the shopping.” John said to the empty room.

John leaned back into his chair looking around the sitting room. He was looking to see if something was out of place. If he had just imagined the whole conversation with Sherlock or if he had somehow slipped into a parallel universe where Sherlock Holmes would be going to the shops. John leaned back in the chair sighing heavily. He wondered what the hell just happened.

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2008 Moran starts to imagine life with John  
> 2010 The courtship begins, kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments. I am having a hard time with knowing if I need to increase the rating on this story. My writing tends to be heavy on plot but there will be sexual acts and they will be described, well, vividly. I hope I don't offend anyone. Having said that, hand jobs in this chapter. Also, I've updated the tags. Please check.

2008 Sangin, Afghanistan

Sebastian Moran stood outside the walls forward base as the sun blazed just above the horizon in the west. This time of year, the Helmand River was a muddy brown smear that laid across the parched earth. It was low but still not at its lowest level. The sound of the evening wind picked up and it was all Moran could hear. The tall thick walls blocked out most of the noise coming from the camp. The wind was a soft hum of the breeze as it blew across the ground before it was swallowed by the sparse vegetation.

Moran like this time of day. The time of day when the sky shifted colors from the bleached out pale blue of the hot daylight to the indigo and sapphire blues of the night. The same shade of blue as John Watson’s eyes. Moran stood like a statue watching the shifting hues of blues and purples as the sun set and the stars slowly appeared in the heavens. He wrapped his arms around his chest to maintain some warmth in his body as the evening air chilled him. He sighed as the finally light from the sun disappeared the area was illuminated by moonlight. For once in his life he was happy. He was happy to be here in the middle of a war. In the middle of a land that had not been conquered and probably never would be. But he was happy because he was beginning to believe in a future.

He leaned against the dirt wall that protected this side of the base from a river approach. As he looked out over the swirling mud he thought of John. Of the omega doctor who didn’t act like any omega he ever met. John was perfect. He was everything the alpha wanted in a mate. John was self-reliant and determined. He was intelligent and strong. He was fearless and brave. John would never question Moran’s choices; he would gladly follow Moran where ever the soldier was sent on deployment. He would be a comrade as well as a mate.

And John was handsome. Moran knew that most of the alphas on the base coveted the young omega. Although, the men had except John as an officer and soldier, many still desired after the omega beneath. And why not. John Watson was desirable. He was strong and resilient. Although, not as heavily muscled as the alphas, John’s arms and legs were defined with ropes of muscles and sinew. His hands showed hard work. His blonde hair was bleached lighter by the sun, setting off his tan skin. His eyes were a remarkable blue that Moran would stare at for as long as the omega would let him. But John’s smile. His knowing and smug smile. That is what grabbed Moran’s heart and held it tight.

Moran felt a twinge low in his gut. He was becoming desperate for the small omega. Over the past few weeks, out here on the front lines, John’s omega scent had become clearer and stronger to the soldier. Every time he played poker with the omega, Moran would sit next to him, just so he smell the fresh scent. Like the forest after a rain. Moran’s mouth would water when the young man would talk to him. The scent was still tainted with the metallic scent of the suppressants but it was also becoming sharper and more defined. Moran was craving it.

He would wake in the middle of the night having just dreamed of the omega. John’s tan skin, golden brown and smoothed, sliding next to Moran’s. The omega’s soft smile and easy going laugh hanging just on the edge of his dreams. Moran was waking more often with John’s name on his lips and a longing deep in his groin. He wondered if he could convince the small omega to consider moving into his tent. If he could get John to agree to become his and his alone.

Moran turned and walked into the base. The noise of the evening quarters sounding unusually loud after being outside the wall of the base. Moran wanted to tell himself he was just wandering around the grounds, but he knew where he would end up. The omega tent. Contrary to what Moran had told John, he was not the only omega at the base. There were two enlisted omegas who worked in the radio room. The omega tent, as it was called on the base, was shared by John with two enlisted men. It was against regulations for an officer to be billeted with enlisted but it would have required two separate tents otherwise. John had agreed to stay with the two enlisted men because of the shortage of space. Another example of John’s dedication to the service.

Just as Moran round the last tent before John’s, he saw the two men. From this distance, he couldn’t see their faces but he could smell they were alphas. They were crouched down and trying to loosen one of the flaps of the omega tent.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” Moran shouted.

The two men rushed to their feet then turned to run off. Moran should have given chase but he was more frightened for John. He rushed forward and called out through the canvas door.

“JOHN! . . . JOHN!?”

Moran heard a soft curse then rustling. The flap was pulled back and John Watson stepped out into the moonlight before Moran.

“What? In coming? How many injured!?”

Moran was stunned into silence. John stood before Moran in his skivvies. John was barefoot and bare chested. In the clear moonlight, Moran could see the tan blemish free skin of John’s torso. The defined pectoral muscles, the taut nipples. The trim outline on John’s waist down to his hips. The smooth skin of a flat hard abdomen. The well-developed thighs of a soldier.

Moran’s mouth went dry.

“Seb? What’s happened?” John whispered as he studied the commander.

“Men . . . alphas where trying to sneak into your tent . . . are you alright?”

John crossed his arms over his chest and laughed.

“I thought we were under attack by the way you were shouting at me.” John smiled and Moran could feel his heart melt.

He want to grab John and hold the man tight to his chest. He wanted to lick up that taut throat and taste John’s skin. Discover if it was as sweet as he believed it was.

“Honestly, Seb, you scared the shite out of us . . . I’ve got two enlisted in there rushing to get dressed for combat.”

“Sorry, John . . . I just saw the two alphas trying to get in there. I don’t know what they thought they could accomplish with three of you but I wanted to be sure you’re . . . safe. Do you have your sidearm?”

“Yes, daddy. Tucked in next to my teddy.” John laughed softly.

The alpha felt a spike of lust rocket through him at the name. Moran smiled at the young man. “You’ll regret that comment.”

Moran remained still just looking at John in the moonlight. John waited, then raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“Is there anything else?”

Moran mind quickly supplied numerous answers he couldn’t say. ‘ _Yes, kiss me . . . touch me . . . come to my tent for the night . . . let me fuck you.’_

“Ah, yes . . . remember you are going out with my squad tomorrow. Sunrise. Be ready.”

“Yes daddy.” John dropped his arms and turned to go back into his tent.

“John . . .”

John turned to look back at the soldier.

“Yes . . .”

“Just be careful please. I still need to win my money back from you from the last poker game.”

“Yes, sir.” John smiled and dropped the canvas flap that acted as a door for the tent.

Moran waited a moment then walked purposefully back to his tent. He just made it under the canvas door, when he tore at his fly. He shoved his hand deep into his pants and grabbed his throbbing cock. Pulling it free from the heavy canvas trousers, Moran gave it two quick strokes, tight and fast. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He knelt down to the floor and let his imagination fill in the details of his fantasy.

_John naked below him. The young omega moaning, calling out to the soldier. ‘Seb, please . . . I want.’ That tan smooth skin under is hand. The touch and taste of John’s mouth on him. On his lips, his body . . . his cock. John’s mouth wrapped around his length as those soft blue eyes looked up at him._

Moran came after that thought. A deep groan rocking through his chest as he spilled out onto his hand. The vision of John on his knees before Sebastian. The proud little omega submitting to the alpha. Moran collapsed back onto his heels. He forced his breathing to slow.

“Soon John. Soon.” He promises himself.

 

2010 London, England

It had been a week since Sherlock and John had discussed bonding. John still was unsure how the whole conversation had gone since he was out while Sherlock had most of it. John wasn’t sure what to expect, but no bouquets of flowers appeared. No unusual gifts or surprises. Not even shopping bags full of groceries. Apparently, Sherlock’s version of courting was not John’s.

The week had been quick. A new case had come in the very same day as the conversation. A robbery and murder at a peer’s residence in London. A locked room with no way in or out save the ventilation ducts. Too small for anyone but a child. Or a dwarf. After seven days, Sherlock and John found themselves chasing a murderous little person with a blow dart across the rooftops of London. A ruby necklace had been recovered and the Lord and Lady Carlyle were extremely grateful. Seventy-five thousand pounds grateful. The check was presently in the pocket of John’s shirt.

It had been a whirlwind of an investigation and the adrenaline was still surging through the alpha and omega. Neither man had much time to stop and think about bonding, but John realized it was still very much on the both of their minds. As he sat in the taxi on the way back to Baker Street, his knee bouncing with excitement, he knew what his answer would be.

As they climbed the stairs to their flat, John tugged on Sherlock’s coat sleeve.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock hummed softly. His mind concerned with an experiment he wanted to do on frog toxins.

“Yes.” John said when Sherlock didn’t say anything.

Sherlock stopped on the steps and turned to look at John. His brow was knitted together. He looked very young and uncertain.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes, Sherlock . . . yes, I will bond with you.”

“Oh . . . good, yes, good . . . alright there are things we need to do to get ready.”

Sherlock turned and rushed up the stairs to their flat.

“Get ready? What are you talking about?” John chased after the man.

Sherlock had opened the door of their flat and was looking around the sitting room. He grabbed a note pad and a pen. He handed them to John.

“First you will need to stop your suppressants.”

“What?”

“Stop the suppressants. Your next heat should be about a week later. So the first three days we need to prepare for the heat.”

“Sherlock . . .” John said in a warning tone.

“Then the three days before your heat, you will need to stay here in the flat. Don’t go out at all. I’ll need to leave. Also, I need you to promise me that you will not let any other alpha touch you, even casually.” The tall detective started pacing around the room.

“Sherlock . . .” John’s tone deepened.

“The three days after your heat, you will also have to stay here. I will become very territorial and no one can be allowed into the flat for that time. Nine days in all. I won’t be able to tolerate anyone else’s scent on you so you must be careful.”

“Sherlock, what are you talking about?”

“Obviously, John, I’m planning for our bonding.”

“Our bonding. I thought we just agreed and fucked like bunnies afterwards.”

“John, you’re a medical man. Surely you know it is far more complicated than that?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know it’s more complicated than that but why are you making it even more complicated. I’ve said yes. Why not start now?”

“Statistics show that the most secure and strongest bonds occur during heats.”

“I know.”

“I need to know that no one would take you away from me, John. No one can have you but me.” Sherlock moved forward and rested his hands on either side of John’s shoulders. “You are . . . beyond value to me, John. Please, you’ve indulged me in so much before. Indulge me in this.”

John looked up into the open and honest face of Sherlock. It was impossible for the man to say no to the alpha. John sighed heavily.

“Alright . . . tell me again what you need me to do.”

“Stop your suppressants. Prepare. Buy supplies. Do not leave the flat for three days before or three days after your heat. And from now on, please do not let any other alpha ever touch you. Even brush up against you.”

“Sherlock, we live in a city of eight million people. It’s going to be impossible to avoid casual contact.”

“Well, if you agree to never leave the flat again except with me . . .”

“You know that is not going to happen.” John’s voice dipped again, warning the taller man.

“Yes, John.” Sherlock stepped back and removed his coat and scarf. Tossing them across the sofa.

John removed his shooter’s jacket and dutifully hung it up.

“And the sex?”

“Pardon?”

“The fucking like bunnies?” John turned and smiled. It seemed the idea of finally having sex with his extremely good looking flat mate had opened the flood gates on John’s libido.

“Oh, yes . . . I need to wait.”

“WAIT!? WHY!?” John’s voice nearly broke as he screeched out the plea.

Sherlock smiled as he stepped closer to the doctor. “John, you must know how attractive I find you. If we start now. If I kiss you now . . . taste you . . . run my hands across your naked body . . .” Sherlock crowded John back against the wall. The omega’s eyes transfixed on the tall alpha. “If I give in to my baser instincts, then . . . I won’t be able to wait. Our bonding might be put into jeopardy. Please, give me the week to prepare.” The dark haired detective was pressing up against John’s side. Pinning him to the wall. John could feel the heat coming off the man and his scent was becoming stronger.

“Sherlock . . .”

“I am unaware of Leporidae copulation practices but I am not unskilled in giving pleasure either.”

Sherlock bent his head lower so his mouth was mere centimeters off John’s ear. His warm breath tickled the blonde’s skin and teased at his control. He brought his hand up and slowly dragged his fingertips down John’s chest and abdomen. The young doctor shivered as the alpha’s long fingers stroked across his taught muscles.

“I can’t tell you how much I want to touch you right now.” Sherlock’s voice was deep and dark. Like velvet being dragged over John’s body. “I’m not one for restraint but I’m finding resisting you is adding to my yearning for you.”

Sherlock’s index finger moved slowly to draw an outline around John’s filling cock. John hissed and closed his eyes. Listening to the sultry voice of his soon to be bond mate. Sherlock pressed a little closer.

“How much I want to taste every inch of your skin. Lick the sweat off your body as I take you apart. Listen to you beg for my fingers, my tongue . . . my cock.”

Sherlock palmed the hardened length of John’s cock through the man’s clothes. John whimpered and pushed back into the touch.

“But it we wait . . . If I hold off till your heat, then between moments of sex, I will drag my hands down your body and across you skin. I will learn everything about you. Your feel, your taste . . . your limits.” Sherlock dragged his hand back across John’s aching cock. The omega bucked forward seeking the contact. John bit his bottom lip to hold back the moan growing in his throat.

“I want to know what your mouth feels like against my mouth . . . on my skin . . . around my prick.”

Sherlock didn’t stop now. He openly stroked John through his tight jeans. John could not hold back any longer, either. He groaned and reached up to grip Sherlock’s arms.

“Please Sherlock . . . please, just for now. Just once. Take me to bed.”

“Maybe I should drop to my knees here and take you in my mouth. Would you like that?”

“Oh God, yes!”

“Or . . . would you prefer . . . fucking me instead. Sliding your prick deep inside a prime alpha?”

John’s mind sparked out at the image of him pumping into Sherlock perfectly formed arse. A sane normal alpha would never allow it . . . but Sherlock. Every omega’s dream and Sherlock was offering it to John.

The climax rocketed through John’s body. He shouted out Sherlock’s name as he bucked forward into Sherlock’s hand. Coming in his pants like a lovesick teenager. Sherlock held John up against the wall as John’s knees gave out and his mind blanked completely. John shook and shivered as body succumbed to Sherlock’s voice and suggestions.

When John came back to himself, he leaned over to kiss Sherlock’s mouth, but the detective pulled back. John was only able to brush his lips over the cool plains of Sherlock’s cheek. But even that chaste touch brought a blush to the detective’s face.

“Six days, John . . . Not even a week.” Sherlock whispered.

John nodded and Sherlock released him. John sagged against the wall. Happy and relaxed. Then he noticed the uncomfortable mess in his pants. He smiled weakly and stepped away from Sherlock’s side.

“Six days.”

Sherlock nodded.

The next morning, John woke in his own bed, alone. He sat up and reached for his bottle of suppressants. He read over the label and studied the bottle for a moment. Then he opened the drawer of the bed stand and tossed the bottle inside. Closing the drawer, he started to count the days.


	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2008 John is shot  
> 2010 John's heat begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments and encouragement. The next chapter will be in a few days but I'm writing faster than I thought I would so maybe sooner.

2008 Sangin, Afghanistan

John Watson had insisted on going out on patrol as soon as he had arrived at the forward base. He explained to Moran it would be better for everyone if John was with the squads and provide medical care to the civilians that need it. It would instill trust between the Afghans and the British soldiers if the civilians considered them more as aid than conquerors. Moran didn’t want to let John out in the field but the omega was determined.

After he had helped a young Afghan boy whose arm had gotten infected from a fall, things began to change for the soldiers. The boy was the youngest and favorite son of a tribal elder. John saved the boy’s life. The following day, a young herdsman came in with information about Taliban movements in the mountains to the north of the base. The following week, a woman came to warn the soldiers of an ambush attack on a convoy heading to the camp from Kandahar.

The men of the base began to consider John Watson their good luck charm. They preferred having John on patrol with them. Teasing the omega by rubbing his blonde hair as ritual to insure safety. John protested but never retaliated against the men.

Moran insisted John carry an AR like the other soldiers. He wore the regulation helmet and body armor but John had a full med kit on his back instead of the normal gear. Whenever a civilian came forward with a medical need. Moran would assess the safety first before he would allow John to treat the person. This had caused some disagreements between the alpha and the omega but John would always follow the colonel’s orders.

Today, Moran and his squad were walking through small village near the foothills leading west. The town had been a strong hold for resistance fighters but no combatants had been seen in the area for six months now. Moran and three of his men were walking in lose formation down the main road on the town. Not so much a road as a clear strip between rows of mud brick houses. The other four men in the squad were just outside the collection of houses to the south of Moran. John was with Moran walking about eight feet behind the Colonel.

Normally by now someone would have come forward with a need for John, but today no one was leaving their houses or coming out to speak to the British soldiers. The windows were shuttered in the small town. The only sounds were from the skinny, almost feral dogs tied on frayed ropes.

“John . . .” Moran said cautiously looking around at the sun bleached houses.    

“I know. I feel it too.” John said as he closed the distance to the Colonel.

Suddenly crackle of distant gunfire. “81 Romeo, Baker to 81 Romeo Adam!” the radio sputtered with a panicked voice.

Gun fire could be heard to the south. The men turned to look in that direction. The man furthest for John and Moran started to run that direction when he was shot. Moran turned to the direction of the gunshot and opened fire with his L85. More rounds were fired at the British soldiers. Moran and the other soldier saw the location of the enemy and concentrated their rounds there.

John ran to reach the injured soldier. Huntley, a boy of nineteen, was shot in the abdomen and was bleeding badly. John looked around and saw a low dirt wall ten meters away from them. He slung his rifle over his back and grabbed the young man. Dragging him as John ran backwards toward the wall. In the distance the sound of gunfire could be heard from Baker. John pulled Huntley behind the wall and crouched down beside him. He quickly grabbed gauze and cauterizing agent from his pack. He tore the straps on Huntley’s armor and opened his canvas uniform shirt. The round had entered from the side as the young man ran to the help his comrades. It had passed through the right side of his body and out the left. John poured water from a sterile bottle on the wound then poured the ‘Quickclot’ on the visible hole. Huntley cried out. John put the thick wad of cotton bandage over the wound and taped it down tight.

Just as he finished, Moran and Williams leaped over the wall too. Moran grunted as he landed. John looked up to see Seb’s left arm covered in blood. The colonel’s helmet was missing and a bullet graze across his forehead bled down across his tan forehead.

John scrambled over Huntley and ripped at Moran’s sleeve. The bullet wound was through the thick muscles of his upper arm. John wrapper the thick bandage around the wound.

“Williams, get on the radio! Get us an airstrike!” Moran shouted as John tied the bandage on Seb’s arm. “81 Romeo, Adam one calling 81 Romeo Baker! What the fuck is going on over there?!” Bullets hit the top of the wall and a sharp spray of rocks and dirt hit Moran’s face.

“Adam, one, we walked into an ambush! We’re trapped behind a burnt out Husky! Two and three are hit!”

“We’re taking fire also! It was a fucking trap! Huntley is down.”

“SIR!” Williams shouted over the sound of gunfire. “We’ve got incoming a Lynx with missiles. They want us to paint the target!”

“Get to it, soldier!” Moran growls.

John leans up on his knees to check Moran’s head. Dirt mixed with blood covered most of the colonel’s face. John splashed water on cotton wadding and started to wipe the wound. Moran jerked his head back, forcing John to lift up to catch him. The gun shot is loud but then everything seems to go quiet for John, like he was sudden submerged under water.

The pain was instant. A searing burning pain right through his left shoulder. His arm went numb and he fell backwards onto Huntley. His helmet flew off his head and rolled down the ravine.

“JOHN!” Moran screamed.

Blood sprayed over John’s face as he turned to look down at his chest. The bullet had nicked the edge of the body armor and gone into his shoulder. John was tipped downhill so the blood was pooling in the dip of neck. It was oddly warm and sticky John thought. He heard Seb shouting at him, but he couldn’t seem to understand what the colonel was saying. It sounds like the colonel was underwater too or maybe it was John who was drowning. John felt his body being lifted and pulled. Seb was still yelling at him. Shouting out his name. John’s chest burned. He wondered quite calmly if it was an incendiary round that he was hit with.

“NO . . . GOD NO!” Moran shouted as he pulled John’s limp body to himself. He cradled the omega in his arms as John’s blood flows rapidly from the wound.

“Bleeding . . .” John’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. “The bleeding . . . stop it . . .”

Moran reached for John’s pack and found a thick pad of cotton batting. He tore the straps of John’s armor and ripped the chest plate from John’s body. The wound was bad. The round fragmented and shredded John’s shoulder. Moran pressed the bandage tightly to the wound. He pulled John’s body closer, resting the omega on his own chest.

“Please God . . . don’t let me die.” John whispered just as his eyes closed.

Moran was wild with fear. This can’t be happening he kept repeating to himself. Not to John! Not to his John! They are supposed to be together. They are supposed to bond. Have pups. Beautiful blonde pups with blue eyes. John’s not supposed to die. John can’t die.

Moran heard the helicopter in the distance. He looked up to see the Lynx AH9 coming in fast. He watched as the missiles drop from the carriage and speed towards their target. He doesn’t watch as the low mud building sixty yards from them explodes. He can’t move. John is in his arms. He is finally holding the man he loves but it is too late.

 

2010 London, England

John reviewed the list of things Sherlock had asked him to do before John’s heat is to start. He had stopped taking the suppressants and now he was to get supplies. The last heat John had was almost twenty years ago. He remember the frustration and fevers. How incredibly thirsty he was. He knew he was going to have to get a case of bottled water in the flat before the week was out. Then he thought he should probably get two since this heat Sherlock would be with him. As he rode the Tube to work at the clinic, John made a list of the things he would need to buy on his way home that day. He also needed to tell Sarah that he needed time off. When she asked why, John balked for a moment. John looks down at the floor. He remembers the numerous conversations he had had with Sarah when they were dating.

 _“Alpha’s are just self-entitled prick! Never going to bond with one! I prefer betas.”_ Sarah was a beta and John had hoped that they could be more than just friends. He had hoped that he could find some normalcy in his life after he returned from Afghanistan. That he could find someone to settle down with and try to live like normal people were supposed to live. It didn’t work out that way, though.

“I’m going to bond.”

“Sherlock?” She asked unsurprised. John looked up into her face. Instead of looking accusing or angry, Sarah looked worried.

“He’s a good man. He loves me.” John blurted out.

“John, are you sure. He’s . . . Sherlock is Sherlock. He’s not right.”

“He is right for me.”

“John, you and I both have seen the results of bondings that went bad. The complications and the . . . abuse.”

“Sarah, he loves me . . . I know what I’m doing.” John assured her.

Sarah shook her head. “I’ll let you have two weeks from when you call in. If you need me, though, call me . . . anytime. You know we won’t be more than coworkers but I do care about you John.”

The omega smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, Sarah. It will be fine.”

Two days after John had stopped taking suppressants, he woke up alone in the flat. He hadn’t seen Sherlock since the night he asked John to bond. John thought about the conversation with Sarah. He thought about all the times he had shouted he never wanted an alpha bond mate. He remember the alphas in the army that had tried something with him. He had broken two arms and one nose of alphas who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Suddenly John’s mind was swirling. John wanted to believe he wanted to bond with Sherlock but what if when he was in the throes of heat he reacted like he did in the army? What if he panicked or if Sherlock panicked? Sherlock had never seen him naked. What if Sherlock changed his mind after seeing John’s scarred body? What would happen to John if Sherlock rejected him?

Then he started to wonder about what would happen after the bonding. Would Sherlock still be happy with his decision? John believed he would always be contented being Sherlock’s mate, but would Sherlock feel the same way? Sherlock was a genius. He bored easily. Would he tire of John too? Would he regret this decision in a year or two? And what if it was too late for John to have pups. What would happen to them if Sherlock wanted children and John was too old?

John started pacing the around the flat. His mind began spinning out of control. He knew he had to concentrate on something else before he talked himself out of the bonding. John looked around the kitchen and general clutter. The supplies he had bought the night before were stacked on the table. Dishes from the day before were still in the sink. Dust bunnies in the corner. He knew that was a good place as any to start.

He cleaned every surface in the kitchen. He washed the dishes and put them away. He cleaned out the refrigerator and threw out anything that looked dodgy. He stored the supplies away. Then he got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed the floor. After four hours the kitchen was military clean.

He then went to work in the sitting room. Even though it was still winter, he opened the windows and let the fresh air in. Against Sherlock’s specific instructions, he dusted everywhere. He put every book properly away on the book shelf and even removed the clutter from the desk. Finally around seven he went and borrowed Mrs. Hudson’s vacuum cleaner and hovered the rugs. By the time he finished, he was exhausted but the flat was cleaner than it had ever been since they moved in.

John collapsed in his bed exhausted and fell asleep after just a few minutes. When he woke in the morning, he found a blanket stretched over him.

“Sherlock?” He called out, getting up and looking to see if his future mate was there. The flat was empty save for him.

On the kitchen table was a note and two boxes. The first was a box of John’s favorite biscuits. They were French and made with almonds. They were very expensive and John would only buy a very small box of them at Christmas. The second box was tea. John was not familiar with the brand but as soon as he opened the box, he knew it had to be expensive. The wonderful scent of Bergamot filled his noise. John held both boxes close to his chest and sighed at the warm delicious smells.

John unfolded the note and read it.

_For my John, Love, Sherlock._

The soldier closed his eyes and smiled softly. The fear and doubts from the day before began to melt. He took out one biscuit and placed in a clean plate. Then he made himself a cupper with the new tea. It tasted as good as it smelled and complimented the almond biscuit perfectly.

He looked around the clean and fresh smelling flat and felt a wave of pride at what he had accomplished the day before. He decided today he would tackle the bathroom and his room. It took him most of the day to finish cleaning the flat the way he wanted to. In the evening he went to the shops and bought fresh fruit. When he came into the flat another present was sitting on the table. A note and small paper sack from a posh salon. John unfolded the note and read the message.

_Four days, my love_

John looked inside the sack and saw a bottle of shampoo and shower gel. John had never heard of the brand before but it had to have cost five times what his normal shampoo cost. He opened the bottle and took a sniff and it without any scent at all. He set it back down and decided to go off to bed. Maybe tomorrow he would see Sherlock.

The next morning John woke up and tried the new shampoo and shower gel. He could believe how wonderful it made him feel. His hair was soft and his skin felt smooth. He swore to himself he would use it sparingly. John made another cup of tea and ate one of his almond biscuits.

It was his last day to work at the clinic before his heat would start. He informed Sarah he was going to flat bound for the next nine days. She questioned his decision again but then wished him luck. He rode the tube home and was drawing the attention of several alphas on the train. One asked he would interested to getting a pint together, but John smiled and said his alpha was waiting for him at home. The man seemed disappointed but didn’t push it. Unfortunately, Sherlock was there when John got to Baker Street. Another two presents was on the table.

_I long for you._

John smiled as he opened the box from one of the exclusive men’s shops west of Piccadilly. John almost gasped when he saw the sapphire blue silk robe. He dragged his fingers across the smooth fabric. He had never seen anything so beautiful to wear before. A small tear formed in the corner of his eye. He pulled the robe out of the box and held it up. It would fit him perfectly. Then he noticed the other garments in the box. John slung the robe over his arm and picked up the next piece of clothing. It was a pair of black silk boxers in John’s size. He had not seen anything so common place seem so lurid as a pair of silk pants. There were three in the box. A black pair, a blue pair the same color as the robe and a red pair.

John realized that Sherlock was wanting to see John in the pants. In nothing else but the pants. He felt a sudden warmth come to his cheeks.

John opened the unlabeled bag on the table and glanced inside. Then he slammed it shut. _‘It_ _couldn’t be! Sherlock wouldn’t have . . .’_ He opened the bag again and looked at the dildo again. It was a model of an alpha cock, nine inches long. John took it out of the bag. It was large and heavy. A small remote with two different buttons came with it. John pressed the orange button on the remote and the knot near the base of the dildo began to swell. Small rollers moved along the fake knot pushing the latex out to a diameter of three inches. The roller kept moving and would add stimulation to the omega prostate once inside. John felt his mouth go dry. He pressed the red button and the whole dildo started to vibrate. John almost dropped it. He felt his whole face warm with embarrassment, even his ears. He quickly turned the dildo off and bundled everything together. The clothes and the latex cock. He rushed upstairs and hid them in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He wasn’t sure what Sherlock’s game was, but he was positive they were both going to have a talk before they went any further.

The next day, John woke to a large manila envelope sitting on the kitchen table. After the last few presents, John was looking at the envelope like it was a snake. John went to make a cup of tea. He moved slowly as he kept glancing at the envelope.

He sighed and sat down. He spun the envelope around so he could read the name on it. It was from a solicitor in the City. John broke the seal and opened the envelope and dropped the papers out on the table. John read the opening letter, then read it again. He set everything down and went to make another cup of tea. _‘It had to be a mistake. It couldn’t be true.’_

John sat down and read through the complete document. It was true. Sherlock had transferred half of his trust to John. Seven million pounds. He couldn’t accept it. Then it occurred to John. Sherlock said he was going to court John.

_“I will prove to you I can provide for you and care for you. Give you the emotional and physical support you need.”_

Sherlock had been doing just that in his own very peculiar Sherlock way. John slipped the document back into envelope. He slipped his mobile out of his pocket and typed in a text to Sherlock.

_‘We need to talk before my heat starts.’_

_‘Are we still bonding?’ SH_

_‘Yes, but I can’t accept the money.’_

_‘As long as we are still bonding, I don’t care about anything else.’ SH_

_‘I can’t accept.’_

_‘Did you like the other gifts?’ SH_

_‘Yes . . . most of them . . . especially the biscuits.’_

_‘I am required to provide for you.’ SH_

_‘We provide for each other.’_

_‘Accept the money, John. I’ll be sure to make you earn it.’ SH_

John looked at the last message and wondered what Sherlock meant by that. He smiled figuring he had probably already earned it by not throttling the man every time he deserved it. John made a new cup of Sherlock’s tea and ate five cookies. He decided he deserved them.

A day later, John woke up with a burning itch deep inside himself. He felt warm all over. It was beginning. He wondered how fast Sherlock could get back to the flat. Then he noticed the wonderful smell in his room. Like cognac and almonds. He rolled over to see Sherlock sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I’ve missed you.” John smiled up at the detective.

“I’ve been fighting with myself to stay away.”

“Why?”

“I’ve found myself attracted to you for quite a while now, John. I wasn’t exactly sure why. You made me feel different than I ever felt before. I wanted things.”

“Like?” John asked remember the dildo presently hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

“I wanted to be better because you treated me like I was better person. I wanted to brilliant because you said I was brilliant. I wanted to the man you saw. . . . Then . . . at the pool. When I saw you with the explosive vest on . . . I knew I wanted you. When I knelt down in front of you I finally caught your true scent. I finally realized you were an omega and it seemed to waken something inside of me.”

John just smiled up at Sherlock.

“I went for weeks dreaming about you. Thinking about you. Wanting to . . . be with you.” John noticed a blush come to Sherlock’s cheeks. He seemed embarrassed by his words. It just made him that more desirable to the omega. “John, if I hadn’t stayed away after you said yes, I’m afraid I would succumb to my desires for you and . . .”

“You’re an idiot.” John smiled. “Come here and kiss me.”

John was smirking at the alpha but Sherlock obeyed John and leaned forward tentatively. Their lips kissed. A gently brush of sensitive skin. An encounter of warm breathe on skin. Then Sherlock pulled back and looked at John.

The omega growled and reached up and slipped his fingers into Sherlock’s curls. The black strands were as soft as John always imagined they would be. He pulled Sherlock down to his lips and kissed again. This time Sherlock seemed to let his control slip. He pushed harder and opened his mouth to suck in John’s lower lip. Sherlock’s hands reached up and wrapped around the smaller man’s body. He pulled John closer to his body and hummed in pleasure.

“You taste as delicious as I thought you would.” Sherlock purred.

John opened his mouth to the detective’s probing tongue. Sherlock swept in and licked the entirety of John’s mouth. Moaning and purring as he did you.

John pulled back to look into the alpha’s blown eyes. Silver rims around black blown pupils.

“My heat won’t start for an hour or two.”

“Good, plenty of time for me to touch, scent and taste every inch of your body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I am writing fast, if you catch any glaring mistakes please let me know so I can correct them. Thank you.


	5. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2008 Moran loses John.  
> 2010 John and Sherlock bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments. We get to the smut now. If not your thing, skip the portion with Sherlock and John. I've used a term from ff_fans series the "Seven Ages". Boi is a derogatory term for male omegas. It is somewhere between bitch and whore.

2008 Sangin Afghanistan

Moran watched as the evac helicopter took off with John and Huntley laying on the deck. The doors were open and Moran could see the medic tearing John’s shirt off to get to the wound on his shoulder. Moran’s own shirt was soaked with his and John’s blood. He and the rest of his squad were taken back to the forward base by a Humvee. It would be an hour before he could reach John. They pulled into the base, just as Moran saw another helicopter taking off.

Moran leaped out of the vehicle and rushed toward the field hospital. One of the medics met Moran at the door.

“Sir . . . Captain Watson is on that helicopter!” The young man pointed to the one dusting off.

“What!? WHY!? . . .”

“His injuries . . . too much for us . . . Huntley is dead.”

Moran didn’t even register the loss of one of his men. His compete focus was on John Watson. The young medic went to grab the colonel’s arm.

“Sir . . . your head? Were you injured?”

Moran totally forgot about his head wound. He yanked his arm away from the man and rushed to the Humvee. He had to get to John. He had to get to his omega.

He drove out of the compound as various soldiers tried to wave him down. He would not stop. It was only eighty-two miles from Camp Bastion to Kandahar. The helicopter would be there in less than twenty-five minutes, Moran was going to have to go off road to avoid the check points; it would take him over two hours. He drove the Humvee over the rough terrain kicking up a curtain of dust behind him.

When he arrived at the gates of the Military hospital in Kandahar, the Red Caps were waiting for him. He was pulled from the vehicle and manacled immediately. Moran roared at the men as they hustled the alpha into the stockade. He was thrown into the cell and the door locked. Moran shouted and cursed. He made threats and spat at the Red Caps.

After an hour, the door of the cell block opened and Brigadier Hyde-Dower stepped into the narrow hallway in front of the cells. The two alphas had been friends for over ten years. They had served together in three different war zones. They had seen the best and worst of each other. The older alpha looked at the fuming Moran. The colonel glared back at his superior officer.

“Not even a salute, soldier?” the brigadier asked in a threatening tone.

“Where is Captain John Watson?” Moran growled.

“Gone.”

Moran suddenly leaned back as if he had been punched by some invisible force. “Gone? . . . Is he . . .?”

“Evac’ed to Dempsey Barracks. Who was the omega to you?” The brigadier could see how shaken Moran was by the news. He was suddenly worried for his friend.

Moran collapsed on the bench against the back wall of the cell. He didn’t answer the brigadier.

“Seb, I asked you a question . . . who was the omega to you?”

Moran looked up at his one time friend. The brigadier could see something strange in Moran’s eyes. He had seen many things in those water grey eyes. Pain and anger, relief and pride, but now he saw regret. He saw doubt and regret in the man he had known since he was a major. The two had trained together and fought together and now what separated them was a set of bars.

“He was in my command. He was our medical officer and . . . a soldier.”

“You abandoned your post and drove eight-two miles because he was in your medical officer? Seb, this is not like you. Tell me the truth.”

“How was he when he left?”

Hyde-Dower hesitated for a moment. He wondered if he should tell Moran the truth or keep trying to question him.

“They stabilized him. The round tore the shite out of shoulder. They sent him to Germany to save his arm. If he stayed here, they would have had to amputate it.”

Moran felt his mouth go dry. He seemed to be slipping away from Hyde-Dower’s reach. Moran looked up at the brigadier.

“Jordy, you can get me out of here . . . get me to Dempsey Barracks? I need to get to John!”

“Seb, why? What was the omega to you? Were you fucking that little boi arse?”

Moran leaped off the bench and threw himself at the bars of the cell. He reached through the bars to grab the man’s throat and throttle him. The brigadier stumbled backwards out of the man’s reach. He could see the vitriol hatred in Moran’s face. He would kill his friend for calling the omega a ‘boi’.

“Don’t you ever call John that again! He is a soldier and a damn fine one!”

“He’s nothing now!” Hyde-Dower said as he stepped back. “If he survives the trip to Germany, he will be discharged afterwards. Even if he keeps his arm, his military career is over. And if it turns out the two of you have been engaged in ‘behavior unbecoming an officer’ then he may be looking at prison too.”

“John never did anything that would be considered criminal. He doesn’t know . . .” Moran said as he pulled his arms back through the bars. “It was just me . . .”

“You never touched him?”

“No.” Moran bowed his head down in regret. He never did let John know how he felt. “We were just friends. John never knew.”

“Alright, then maybe I can convince the general that it was a head injury that made you do what you did . . . abandon your post in a time of war. You’re just an over protective commander concerned for his soldier, but Seb . . . your career as a soldier . . . you fucked it over you know.”

“I know.”

2010 London, England

Sherlock laid next to John, both men naked on John’s bed. John’s heat is only a few hours away, so Sherlock had chosen to spend the time mapping out John. Taking his time to enjoy their first moments together before hormones wash over them and they are both lost in the primordial need of heat and rut. Sherlock’s long fingers slowly stroke down the doctor’s body, textually examining every mark, and dip and curve of the omega’s body. John sighed and stretched into Sherlock’s touches. His skin becoming sensitive to the simple touch of the alpha’s finger.

“You’re not wearing the clothes I bought you.” Sherlock whispers into John’s ear.

The detective noticed the rosy pink blush to John’s cheeks as the omega shivered. Sherlock smiled and leaned heavier into John’s side.

“Oh, are you embarrassed?”

“Who wouldn’t be? Where did you find that . . . cock?”

Sherlock laughed darkly. A deep rumble from his chest.

“I picked them out just for you. Amazing the selection at Ann Summers.” Sherlock rubbed his nose across the sensitive skin just behind John’s ear enjoying the natural scent clinging to his hair. “The blue is the same color as your eyes when you are aroused.”

Sherlock grazed his fingertips over John’s nipples. The soldier moaned and lifted up into the touch. Sherlock watched as the rosy brown skin puckered. His mouth watered as he wanted to taste John there. He leaned over the omega and breathed warm moist air over the skin. Then he let his tongue tease the tissue till John was twisting under Sherlock, begging for him to stop, then continue. The alpha smiled as his teeth closed lightly of the raised nipple. John bucked and moaned.

Sherlock moved over to John’s injured shoulder. The scar was jagged and raised. Purplish red next to the healthy golden skin. Sherlock dragged his noise across the scar and listened as John took a quick sudden breath.

“Does it hurt?” Sherlock looked up into John’s face.

“No . . . it just . . . ugly. I’m ashamed . . .”

“No, never say that.” Sherlock pushed up and kissed John. “It is proof.”

John’s eyes studied Sherlock’s face to see if there was any deceit. Any falsehood. He only saw the incredible man looking at him with admiration and something more powerful . . . more undefinable.

“Proof of what?” John whispered, afraid of his own voice.

“Proof or your devotion . . . your loyalty. Proof of your strength.” Sherlock kissed the scarred tissue. “It is the mark of your first love. England. It is what brought you to me.”

John wrapped both of his hands around Sherlock’s face and drew him close. He kissed the detective and pushed up into the man’s body.

“Sherlock . . . I can’t believe this is happening. Please, I don’t want to wait. I want you now.”

John could see Sherlock’s eyes grow dark. The silvery blue rims around blown black pupils. He shivered as he watched the last of Sherlock’s reserves shatter and his wanton lust take hold.

“Roll over. I’m not done exploring you.”

John wanted to say something, to refuse, but the deep and purposeful voice of his soon to be alpha compelled the doctor to obey. He twisted his shoulders letting his body follow the movement. His body brushing against Sherlock’s as he moved.

Sherlock started at John’s neck and left kisses and nips down the man’s back. He paused for moment to pay special attention to the scar on the back of John’s shoulder. At the small of John’s back, Sherlock let his tongue indulge in licking the sweat from the omega’s body. It was rich with his scent and made Sherlock dizzy with want.

Sherlock gently pushed John’s legs apart and nestled between them. John unconsciously pushed up onto his knees, keeping his chest flat on the bed. The alpha purred as the omega presented itself instinctually. John’s crease and thighs were already wet with his slick. The clear slippery substance easing the way for penetration of the omega.

Sherlock started on John’s left thigh. He licked the slick glistening there. It was sweet and warm like brown sugar or honey. Sherlock believed he could get drunk on it. He leaned forward and licked at the source of the slick. John moaned and pushed back into Sherlock’s face.

“Oh . . . yes, Sherlock . . . please.” John buried his face into his folded arms as he fell into the sensation of Sherlock’s tongue on his most private part.

Sherlock lapped and dove his tongue deeper into John’s body. The man’s scent becoming addictive to the alpha; his taste the most delicious thing Sherlock had ever indulged. The muscles quickly giving way to the intrusion as John rapidly approached his heat. His body flushed and shivering with need.

Sherlock waited till John was babbling pleas between moans. He leaned back and knelt on his heels.

“John, I want to watch your face when . . .”

John looked over his shoulder at the dark hair man. Sherlock could see the complete submersion of the omega into his need. John twisted under the alpha. He looked up into Sherlock’s face and saw not only his lover, but his friend and his mate. John pulled Sherlock down for one more kiss. As their tongue intertwined, John lifted his legs and raised his hips to Sherlock. The detective’s cock seemed drawn to John’s opening naturally. It slipped in just past the first ring of muscles with little difficult. Sherlock pulled up to look into John’s eyes. He rolled his spine and pushed himself deeper into the man. John groaned and lifted his legs higher.

“You’re so tight, John. So hot . . . am I . . .?”

“Yes.” The answer was more of an exhale than a spoken word.

The implications hit Sherlock hard. The first . . . the only . . . alpha to know John Watson. How many had wanted the extraordinary man and Sherlock was the one John chose. A sudden and powerful need to protect and cherish the omega washed over the alpha.

Sherlock rolled his spine again and felt the omega open up to him more. He moved deeper and deeper. The heat and pull the smaller man’s body was intense. Sherlock fought to maintain his control and not let it shatter. He wanted. He desired. He had to possess the man beneath him. His. Only his.

As if their hearts began beating as one. The build was intense and hungry. Sherlock force himself to move slowly and carefully. Not to hurt his love, but his primitive need was burning inside him. His mind was forcing him to hold back while his body wanted nothing more than to give in and take.

It felt so good. So right. The two of them together. The heat and passion. This was theirs. This would be theirs forever. He could see John was feeling the same way too. He could see the want and desire in the omega’s face. Everything was written there for Sherlock to read.

“Sherlock . . . I need . . . please . . . more . . . give me alpha.”

Sherlock’s hold on himself was tenuous and that plea shredded the last strands of it. He yanked his body way from John. The omega yelped as Sherlock grabbed his hips and flipped him over. The omega immediately went into presentation position. Sherlock pushed himself in with force. The cry of pain from the omega brought Sherlock back to himself briefly. He was going to stop but he felt John push himself back further onto the alpha’s cock.

He paused for moment and relished the sight of his omega fucking himself on his length. The alpha was beginning to take complete hold on Sherlock’s mind. He had to fight it. Just for a few more moments. Hold off his rut until he was sure he had bonded with John.

He pulled on John’s waist and lifted the wanton omega off the bed. John knelt into Sherlock’s lap, the cock pushed deep inside him. Together the two moved. Sherlock felt his knot begin to swell. The fire blazing to life deep in his groin. He wrapped his arm around John’s waist and held the man tight as he started pushing up violently into the omega. His other hand wrapped around John’s length and started stroking in time with his thrusts.

As his knot swelled he could feel John slip away completely and the omega come forward. The man in his arms was need and desire. The logical and shy doctor was gone. The blonde would abandon all concern of safety now for the act of procreation with its alpha. Sherlock held tight to the man’s waist and he shoved hard up into the omega’s body. The knot slipped in as he squeezed John’s cock.

John came screaming Sherlock’s name. The alpha bit down hard over the scent gland at the juncture of John’s neck and shoulder. Sherlock’s mouth was flooded with the taint of blood but also the refreshing taste of John’s scent. He could feel the omega’s climax rock through him. The muscles spasms around his own length buried inside John’s body. The shiver of John’s body over him. It was all too much. Sherlock pushed up one more time, limited by the knot, only to feel himself empty to his omega. The warm release filling the omega’s body.

Sherlock carefully lowered them to the bed. Careful to not jar John too much as they would be attached for at least an hour. He realized this would be his last cognitive thought before the hormones pulled him down into his primitive nature and he would rut. John’s heat and his rut. He kissed the bond mark one more time, thin lapped at it with his tongue, cleaning the blood away and lovingly caring for the visible proof of their joining. The proof that John was his, and he would do anything for John.


	6. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2008 Moran meets Moriarty  
> 2010 Sherlock point of view of John's heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. I have made Moriarty pretty evil in this story. He will become more disturbed as the story progresses. Heed the tags. But what's a good old fashion fairy tale without a villain. An evil villain. 
> 
> Moran's story line will quickly catch up to John and Sherlock's story line now. By chapter nine they will be together in London. Thank you all for reading and commenting. It is very encouraging.

2007 Sarowbi, Afghanistan

Lieutenant Colonel Sebastian Moran sat in the first truck leading the convoy to Pakistan border from Kabul. He took his demotion and reassignment without complaint but the anger burned brightly beneath. The former combat officer was now in charge of escorting supplies across the rugged mountain range. The paved road followed the rivers and lakes along the mountains. It was one of the greenest spot along the jagged and desolate road from Peshawar.

Moran was lucky to be able to remain in the army after he had abandoned his post rushing after John. He had contacted the base hospital at Dempsey Barracks trying to get information about the young omega. An insolent nurse told Moran, since he was not the John’s commanding officer, family or alpha, they would not release any information regarding former Captain John Watson. All Moran knew was John had survived his injury and been discharged. Where he went after he was discharged, Moran didn’t know.

Moran sat in the front seat of the large truck looking at his only photograph of John. It was taken at forward base on the firing range. He looked up at the paved road ahead of them and into the grey mountains surrounding Sarowbi thinking about his life. There was nothing else to do on these long drives. He slipped the photo back into his pocket of his shirt. Moran had been stationed with the convoy group for five months now. He hated every moment of it. He was trained to be a combat soldier. A commander who led men into firefights and came out alive. He missed the smell of gunfire and the surge of adrenaline rushing through his body. He missed the thrill of the hunt and chase. The camaraderie of combat. The other soldiers and the quite moments in the camps. The time on patrol when you never knew where or when your skills would be put to the test. He missed his men. He missed his friends. He missed John.

He was now babysitting the convoys as they meandered across the eastern Afghanistan. The new recruits who were sent to him knew he had been demoted. They whispered behind his back and the bold young alphas felt compelled to test themselves against the older alpha for dominance. More than one fist fight went unpunished. He wondered if his commanding officers gave him this command to drive him to resign his commission. If they were forcing him out while keeping their hands clean. He used to respect his superior officers, now they were spineless arseholes whose sole purpose in life was to fuck with him.

He still carried his AR but he had no idea why. The area had been under Allie control for years and no one ever attacked the convoys on this route. Mostly, he had the overwhelming desire to shoot someone. Anyone. He was just waiting for the opportunity to do so. Most men were transferred out of this unit within a few weeks of arriving. Getting the experience of transporting supplies without any of the extreme danger. After a few weeks they would be transferred to more strategic routes. Not Moran. He was here as punishment. Or they had forgotten about him. He remained while other, less competent soldiers, moved on. Moran was going to murder someone soon.

The trucks started down a steep incline. The road did a switchback to and fro across the mountain face and down into the valley below. The trucks down shifted and the engines roared and they decompressed. Moran sat glaring out the windshield. How many times had he made the trip? How many more times would he have to make it?

“Hey, colonel . . . look ahead.” The driver of the lead truck, young beta soldier, said.

Moran was pulled from his dark musing and looked at the army vehicle pulled to the side of the road. Common sense would be to drive on. It was an obvious ambush; a possible trap. Moran had raw green recruits with him. None had carried a gun other than in training. None were prepared for a firefight.

“Pull over behind them.” Moran said as he studied the truck.

The young man did as he was ordered. Moran radioed the three other trucks in the convoy to continue on to Sarowbi without them. The lead truck stopped about fifty feet behind the lone vehicle as the three other trucks drove past.

“Stay here and don’t move.” Moran said as he opened the door of the cab.

He slid the action closed on the AR and leapt down from the cab. He boots landing hard in the grey white dirt along the road bed. He looked up to see three men standing by the back gate of the truck. The canvas cover obscured his view of the back of the truck. If someone was back there he would see them until they began shooting.

Moran moved slowly towards the truck watching the three men who were standing there very close together. They kept glancing between each other. The youngest kept looking towards the canvas cover. The hairs on Moran’s arm began to lift. He felt the tingle run up his spine. Finally, something to pull his attention off of losing John Watson. He smiled as he walked up to the three men.

“Busted axel.” One of the men shouted. Irish accent.

Moran looked the man’s uniform over carefully. The shirt and trousers were army issue but the boots were too nice. Too new. The other two men were also dressed in military clothing but from two separate units.

“Hell of a call for the motor club.” Moran said as he smiled at the three men.

“We’ve already radioed for help. We’re fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”

“I’m not.” Moran took a step toward the back of the truck but the three men tried to block his approach. Moran leveled the AR at the men. The expression on his face turned cold and hard. “Obviously, you are going to need my help.”

The canvas moved and a man’s face came out from behind the brown tarp. He was early thirties with dark hair and fine features. His eyes were a remarkable dark color, almost black. He wore civilian clothing and seemed too meek to be intimidating.

“I am the one needing help.” Again another Irish accent. Moran smiled at the man but kept the gun trained on the other three men.

“Always available to help those who can appreciate help.”

The man stepped out the back of the truck and down on the ground. He walked right up to Moran and stared right at the alpha. Moran could tell immediately the stranger was an omega. His scent wasn’t tainted with the sour smell of suppressants. Moran wonder why a western omega would risk being in someplace like Afghanistan while not on suppressants. Omegas like him would be rapidly captured and sent off to some tribal warlord’s harem.

“And how would one show appreciation to you . . .” He looked Moran over then frowned. “Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Recently demoted.” Moran nodded his head at the unasked question.

“Oh, hopefully bitter too?” the omega smiled at him.

“Getting there. Who are you?”

“No one you need to concern yourself with . . . yet . . . but I can make things good for you if you are willing.”

Moran turned and looked at the young man sitting in the front seat of the truck he had been riding in. The boy was maybe twenty. Hadn’t been smart mouthed with Moran. Hadn’t made a pain of himself yet. He looked back at the omega.

“I’m expensive.”

“I’m rich.”

“Can you get me out of Afghanistan?”

“As quickly as you can get me out.”

Moran held his hand out to the man. “Sebastian Moran.”

“Colonel Moran, my name is Moriarty, James Moriarty.” The omega smiled and shook the soldier’s hand.

Three days later, Moran woke in the five star hotel in Singapore. He was in the suite Moriarty had waiting for them when they arrived. Moran had gotten Moriarty and his men out of Afghanistan and east with three tons of raw heroine. Moriarty explained he didn’t like getting his hands dirty but he was needed to attend the final meeting with the tribal warlords in the north and east to establish the uninterrupted flow of heroine. Now that the conduit for raw heroine was assured, Moriarty was going to return to England.

Moran laid in the first real bed he had slept in for over five years. The sheets were soft and smelled nice. The soldier stared out the window at the skyline of Singapore. He pondered his future now that he was a deserter from Her Majesty’s army. If he was caught, he was looking at twenty years in a military prison. He needed to find a way to get back to England and try to find John. He knew the young omega was worth his desertion. John Watson was worth everything to Moran.

The door opened and Moriarty stepped into the room. He was wearing an emerald green silk dressing gown that covered his slight frame. As he walked across the thick carpet towards the bed, Moran could see the omega’s legs and he tell the man was wearing nothing else. Moriarty sat on the edge of the bed. Moran who was naked under the sheets, sat up and pulled the covers up to waist. Moriarty glanced longingly at the alpha’s broad muscular chest. The sparse blonde hair over tan skin. Moriarty licked his lips and looked back up into Moran’s face.

“Have you decided what you are going to do next, Colonel?”

“No . . . I have a few options . . . contacts that owe me . . .” Moran smiled at the omega. He could scent the young man.

“I have need for man with your skill sets.” Moriarty let his eyes sweep over the alpha again. “A man trained in various forms of combat, a sniper. A killer. Someone who can lead others. An alpha that can keep his head in crisis.”

Moran smiled again. He could tell that the omega wanted more than just a hired gun. He glanced down and saw the white skin of the inside of the omega’s thigh, exposed in the folds of green fabric. “And the benefits for being in your . . . employ?”

“The monetary benefits are great for the right type of alpha.”

“Am I the right kind of alpha? Is that why you came here dressed . . . or undressed so you can recruit me?”

Moriarty allowed the alpha a brief moment of superiority.

“I enjoy a good fuck after the conclusion of successful transaction.”

Moran leaned back against the head board of the bed. “Is the position dependent on that fuck?”

“No, but neither is your employment. You can get dressed and walk out of here and try to find your way in the world or you can choose to join me and my network. The world is my playground. The counties . . . my toys.”

Moran reached over and grabbed the omega’s wrist and pulled James Moriarty closer to him. The robe flared open and proved Moran was correct about the omega’s nakedness.

“Sebastian, we have not agreed.” Moriarty pulled back as Moran situated the omega on his lap.

“Job or not . . . it has been a while since I had an omega.”

“I am an omega with singular wants and desires.” Moriarty leaned forward and brushed his lips over Moran’s then quickly pulled back. Moran growled and pulled the smaller man closer to his chest. Moriarty pushed back.

“I have my own wants. And one of them is a pliant omega.”

He slipped his arms around Moriarty’s slim body and pulled the omega again. The blade came up under his jaw before he saw Moriarty’s hand move. The thin stiletto piercing his skin as the point slipped in. Moran felt the trickle of warm blood slide down his throat.

“Well then I see we have an impasse. I am neither pliant nor do I give a shite what your wants might be.” Moriarty leaned forward and kissed the frozen lips of Moran. “You will do as I want, when I want and for as long as I want.”

Moran started to growl but felt the blade slip further in.

“If you think you can over power me you are correct. I could never defeat you in a contest of strength, but you would never leave this hotel alive. In fact, since you know who I am, you have only two choices. Join me or die. Do my bidding or have your body wash ashore somewhere along the coast. You choose.”

Moran swallowed hard. The blade of the stiletto burned as it slid into his flesh. He closed his eyes.

“I am your man.” Moran said.

Moriarty smiled and removed the blade.

“Good, now roll over onto your stomach. I’m ready to fuck you.”

2010 London, England

Sherlock laid on the bed beside John. It was the second day of John’s heat and Sherlock had woken up lucid. His rut abating slightly. He had a bottle of fruit juice in his hand. He was cradling John up into his lap, resting the weary omega’s head on his chest. Slowly, he was tipping the bottle to John’s lips. Letting the exhausted omega sip the fluid. His finger gently massaging the blonde’ scalp.

John was a mess of bruises and bite marks. Sherlock looked at John’s gunshot wound scar and frowned. Apparently during Sherlock’s rut he had total lost control and bit viciously into the damaged skin. In his primitive state he must have though the mark was another alpha’s mark on John’s skin. When he woke, he saw the bleeding wound. Sherlock cleaned and bandaged the injury then carefully fed John a protein bar and the juice. The omega was still deep within his heat. John would recover from the hormonal lunacy, bruised and sore, and now with more bite marks on him than he agreed too. A wave of guilt flooded over the alpha. Sherlock was determined John wouldn’t wake up regretting the bond.

As soon as the doctor finished his drink, he sighed and slipped back to sleep. They had knotted repeatedly through the previous day and night. Finally collapsing exhausted on the ruin sheet around four in the morning. It had been a marathon of sex. Sherlock’s muscles were sore and fatigued from the near constant sex. He knew they still had at least two more days of coupling.

Sherlock gently shifted himself out from under John’s arms. He carefully shifted John over and stood on shaky legs. There were things a good and loving alpha was supposed to do for their omega during heats. Or at least that was what his research had told him. He started with applying Arnica to John’s various bruises. He washed the dried slick and spunk off the man’s body. Carefully wiping around John’s abused hole. Then as the omega slept on the bed, he went about changing the sheets. First rolling the sleeping John this way, then that. The room still smell of sex and their combined scent but the clean sheets made Sherlock’s skin itch less. He was sure John wouldn’t notice but it still seemed important to provide a clean bed for his omega.

Then Sherlock curled up next to his love. He rolled over and curved his body into John’s sleeping one. The two seemed to slot together perfectly. It was as if it was planned to be so. The two were created with each other in mind. Sherlock dragged his long fingers through John’s fine blonde hair. The soft strands slipping like water through his fingers. Sherlock dragged his thumb over John’s swollen lower lip. He couldn’t remember how many times they had kissed but he seemed to remember each kiss individually. The passion and heat of every touch.

Sherlock finally understood why it was so import to not bond till heat. Holding off till now made him more attentive to John. Made Sherlock more aware of the omega’s needs. Waking and caring for his love with gentle touches and soft words as the omega swayed back and forth from the insane need to the exhaustion of his heat. The omega completely and total dependent on his alpha. Sherlock had never had someone so dependent on him and he felt the responsibility quite deeply. It was awoken a desire to be better in him. To be a better alpha, a better man.

Sherlock watched carefully as John slept in his arms. The pale blush of heat to the omega’s skin. The glisten of sweat over the man’s body. John’s scent combined with Sherlock’s and the scent of sex. It all combined to make Sherlock completely devoted to John. He knew nothing would separate him from John. He would always return to his omega. His John.

He kissed John’s forehead and laid his head down, resting it on top of the omega’s. John would wake soon, then it would all begin again. The need and hunger. But now, Sherlock had a moment of peace and realization that no one, nothing would matter more to Sherlock than the battered army doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not a lot of plot for Sherlock and John in the last two chapters but I wanted Moran's story to be a counter point to their story. Things are going to pick up soon plot wise for the two boys.


	7. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2009 Moran joins Moriarty's crime network  
> 2010 John and Sherlock after the bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people have commented on how sympathetic Sebastian Moran is in this story. I wanted to show why he became a criminal and how his unrequited love for John has driven him insane. Don't worry, his behavior will begin to become evil by chapter ten. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments and the kudos. It is good to know you are enjoying the story even if it is not going where you thought it would go. I enjoy keeping people guessing. 
> 
> Also, sex at the end of the chapter, if not your thing skip the last fourth.

2009 Paris, France

Moriarty didn’t take Moran back to England. Their first stop was Dublin where he introduces the soldier to several other mercenaries. Then on to Paris, where James set the men up as his own private assassination squad. Moran and the other mercenaries worked throughout the world; killing anyone who had enemies with deep enough pockets. They had shot legitimately elected presidents and dictators. They had murdered criminals and police. Moran was personally responsible for shooting a priest in South America and two members of the Gambino crime family in New York.

It had been a profitable arrangement. Moran had millions of euros now stashed in various safe houses around the world. He did it all for John. He would finally be able to track the omega down and rescue him from where ever he might be. Moran had enough money now that the two of them could disappear. They could live out their lives with each other.

Except for one thing. One person. He couldn’t escape from Moriarty.

James Moriarty never approached Moran again for sex, but the morning in Singapore still blazed through Moran’s mind. He had to allow James to rape him, knowing he wouldn’t have made it out of the hotel alive. He had watched James do it to other alphas. He had killed alphas who had refused him. Moran met the sniper who had been assigned to shoot him, if Moriarty hadn’t stepped out of the hotel room first. He took pleasure is squeezing the man’s throat till he couldn’t breathe, several months later.

The encounter with James still made Moran sick to think about. He hated he had submitted to the small omega. It tainted his thoughts and drove him insane. He couldn’t stop thinking about the man grunting over his shoulder as he pushed into the soldier. The pressure and pain of Moriarty plowing into him. The sweat and smell of sex that clung to him afterwards. The worst part was James had been able to make Moran respond to him. Moran’s cock had swelled and the climax had burned through the pain with of moan. Moran had felt the release even though he didn’t want too. His body betrayed him. He was ashamed. James only laughed at him.

Whenever James came to meet with his assassination team, he would wink at Moran and whisper how much he missed the soldier. Moran felt his stomach twist. He would pull his shoulders back and force himself to stare the omega down. Even though his mind was screaming at him to run away. He wondered if there was another sniper scope trained on him during these meetings. Was someone else waiting to pull the trigger if he reached over and snapped the omega’s neck?

The only thing that helped the soldier was John. Moran would think about John. Use the memory of John to help him stay on course with James. He would fantasies about the blonde omega. Remember how John smelled and the sound of his laughter. Moran would lay in his bed at night and think about the doctor. Was John working again? Could he work as a doctor with his injured shoulder? Was he happy? Had he found another alpha?

That last thought drove the soldier to darker thoughts. Thoughts about stealing John away from which ever alpha had taken John from him. Marking John as his own. Crushing the life of every alpha that had touched his John. Moran holding John tight. Making sure no one would ever take him away again. He would get John and lock him up. Bar the doors and windows. Keep him caged. He would collar the omega. Leave him waiting for Moran to come to him. To serve him and do his will. Dark thoughts that included keeping John naked and on his knees.

Moran waited for the moment he would be able to free himself from James and get to John. Take the omega away and disappear.

Eight months after arriving in Paris, Moran had taken over the assassination squad. Giving up the original hideout, he had established an office in the center of Paris’ business district. The office was in a large glass and steal building and was listed as Dispatcher Exports. A legitimate appearing front with even a receptionist. In reality, a suite of rooms were where the killers could plan their missions. He had disposed of the mercenaries he didn’t know or trust and replaced them with ones he did know. Some of the people he brought in were soldiers he had met while serving. Men and women, who like himself, still needed the thrill of the hunt and kill but couldn’t do it legally anymore. Others were snipers he admired. The team was very good and tight. He wanted to believe none of them would be willing to shoot him if James ordered it, but he still didn’t feel safe.

The morning James arrived unannounced cause Moran’s blood to run cold. He tried to maintain a professional persona as the small omega stepped into the room where Moran and his team were planning out an operation.

“Seb, I need you and four of your best people in London in three months. Experts in explosives. I have a project.”

“Yes, sir. Location and target?” Moran asked.

“Multiple locations, and civilian targets. Nothing hostile.”

Moran wondered what could be going on that his best trained killers would need to kill unarmed civilians in London. It would be like killing sheep.

“There is a detective who has become a nuisance. I want to teach him a lesson.” Moriarty continued. “I am finalizing my plans, but I’m about to start a game with him. A very dangerous game involving bombs and puzzles. When the game is done, he will either be dead or I will.”

Moran hoped for the latter.

 

2010 London, England

After three days of heat, John woke in his bedroom with a clingy alpha enveloped around him. Sherlock’s arms were wrapped around John’s waist and shoulders. His long legs were tangled with the omega’s. John carefully eased himself out from under Sherlock’s hold. He tried to stand on shaky legs before he stumbled towards the door. Sherlock groaned and shifted in the bed. The detective grabbed John’s pillow and pulled it close to his body. His face buried in the pillow, breathing in the remains of John’s scent.

John went down to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He expected the blueish black bruise on his neck with the brown trace of blood. He didn’t expect the bandage on his injured shoulder, one on the front and one on the back. He removed the gauze and saw another set of teeth marks. Apparently, Sherlock had bit him there too. John looked at his body in the mirror. There were bruises and scratches covering most of his body. His lips were swollen and his hair looked like it had been styled by rabid weasels.

“First thing first.” He said to his reflection.

He turned and started to fill the bathtub with water. As the faucet ran, John brushed his teeth. Then he took two paracetamol tablets. As soon as the tub was full of hot water, John carefully lowered himself in. He sighed heavily as the water started to easy the exhausted muscles in John’s body. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

John heard the thumbs of running feet then the door of the bathroom banged open. The omega was too exhausted to be startled. He looked up to a very naked Sherlock standing in the door way. The alpha’s body was tense, as if he was about to run for his life. His face was flushed and his eyes wide with excitement.

“You weren’t there when I woke . . .”

“I though you need to sleep.” John said as he watched the alpha stumble into the small room.

Sherlock had not gotten through the heat unscathed either. There was a large love bite on Sherlock’s long thin neck. Both shoulders showed bruises consistent with John biting him there. There were scratches and fingertip bruises on his arms and torso. And John noticed as distinctive bruise on the inside of Sherlock’s right thigh. John blushed slightly realizing what it was and that he was the one to put it there.

“You’re not in bed . . .”

“Ah, no . . . the heat is over . . . I just want to get cleaned up.” John said, still blushing as the naked man stood over him.

“It’s over? . . . yes, of course . . . I bathed you when you were . . . upstairs.” Sherlock had a wild look to his eye and John wondered if the alpha was still in the throes of rut.

“Sherlock, are you okay?”

“Just, sorry John . . . You’ve been my sole thought for the last seventy-two hours. I’m still very . . . focused on you.”

John smiled. “Oh . . . I didn’t . . . of course. I think there is more than enough room for both of us in here.”

Sherlock seemed confused for a moment then relaxed. His shoulders eased and lowered to more natural position. His body seemed to slump and then one of his rare honest smiles came to his face. The special smile he saved only for John. He stepped closer as John moved forward, granting Sherlock space to sit down in the hot water.

As soon as Sherlock leaned back against the tub, he reached for John and pulled the omega up against his chest.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock as he gently rubbed his nose against John’s ear. Relishing the omega’s scent now combined with his.

“Sore, but not as bad as I thought I would be. You said you bathed me? During?”

“Yes, a sponge bath in between bouts. I also made sure you ate something and gave you something to drink. I put Arnica on your bruises. How do they feel?”

“Again, not as bad as I was afraid.” John tipped his head back and kissed Sherlock’s mouth. It was an awkward angle but it was still pleasant. “So, now what?”

Sherlock smiled. “Same as before. The Work. Always the Work. I do want you to move into my bedroom. I want you there when I choose to sleep . . . and when I choose not to.” Sherlock’s voice was a deep rumble.

John hummed and nestled back into the alpha’s chest.

“Is Moriarty going to be your first case?”

Sherlock tightened his grip around the omega at the thought of the man whom had threatened to remove John from Sherlock’s life.

“No, I can not proceed with the information I have.” He couldn’t admit to his omega he was afraid of the man and his threats.

“Going to scenes will be interesting.” John let out a laugh that was no more than an exhalation.

“Why?”

“It seems we find it necessary to be touching all the time.” John smiled and leaned over to kiss Sherlock’s neck.

“I’m sure Anderson and Donavan will file another complaint about our behavior.” Sherlock smiled back at John.

“This will be different.” John sighed.

“Does it have to be?”

“It’s just . . . I never expected to find myself in this position.”

“Sitting in a bathtub with me?”

“No . . . I mean, yes and no . . . I never expected to be bonded. I never thought I would want an alpha, then after I was shot . . . I never thought I would find one who would want me.”

Sherlock hummed and John could feel the sound rumbling through the dark haired man’s chest and into his back.

“You must know, I never predicted this either. I had always considered such an arrangement a handicap to logical thinking.” Sherlock kissed John’s shoulder and gently rubbed his lips over the bond mark. “But I’m pleasantly proven wrong by you once again, Doctor Watson.”

Sherlock reached up and turned John’s face to his. The kiss was messy but passionate. John didn’t know how enjoyable it would be to kiss Sherlock. The dark haired detective always seemed so unapproachable, so distant, but now, like this, Sherlock was warmth and pleasure. The tall alpha had been attentive and thoughtful during the heat. Again not what John was expected from an alpha, but then John thought, Sherlock is always the exception. He smiled and twisted so he could kneel over Sherlock’s lap. He wrapped his arms around the dark haired man’s neck and leaned in for a more possessive kiss.

John lapped at Sherlock’s lips and the alpha welcomed the young man into his mouth. Sherlock moaned and wrapped his arms around John’s waist and pulled him closer. He could feel the brush of John’s cock against his in the warm water. It was ridiculous after three days of repeated and exuberant sex, but Sherlock was becoming aroused again. He chased John’s tongue back into the omega’s mouth. He listened to John’s groan and felt the reverberations through his body.

John remembered the few hours before his heat. The precious moments of Sherlock’s touches and caresses. He had to ask. He had to know.

“So, you still happy with the bonding?” John leaned back to look into the man’s face.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought . . . you are so remarkable, Sherlock. I don’t want you to think you settled for something . . . less.”  

“Never, _Mon Cheri_.”

John’s expression softened. He leaned forward and gave Sherlock a chaste kiss. Even more intimate given the fact they were both naked and hard in the warm bathwater. He leaned backed again and asked.

“You find me . . . remarkable?”

“And insightful.” Another kiss.

“You trust my decisions?”

“Always.” Sherlock’s voice was dropping in register as his hands began to move slowly over John’s body.

“Then you will listen to me?” John felt the urge to tease the alpha.

“When haven’t I?” Sherlock eyes were half lidded as his lips moved carefully across John’s skin, down his neck and over his bruised shoulder.

“Then, I want you to sleep more regular hours. Also eat. You need to take care of yourself and eat regular.”

“John, be reasonable.” Sherlock chided as he opened his eyes and pulled back from the omega. .

John smirked and wrapped his hand around the alpha’s cock and squeezed it slightly. Sherlock moaned.

“What was that about being reasonable?” John let his fingers glide smoothly up and down the shaft.

Sherlock shivered in the warm water. His body quickly giving in to the touch of his omega. John gently tightened his grip on the alpha cock and stroked it slowly. His thumb smoothing over the head.

“John, you are being . . . arbitrary. I’m not always able . . .” Sherlock’s voice was becoming rough.

John alternated flexing his fingers, giving a rippling effect up the man length. Sherlock closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the edge of the tub. He let out a deep groan as his hand tightened around John’s arms.

“Oh, John . . . _Précieux_.”

John smiled and leaned forward and lick up the alpha’s neck. John could taste Sherlock’s scent on his skin, honey and almonds. John placed an open mouth kiss over the man’s pulse point.

“John . . . you’re not playing fair.” Sherlock moaned as the omega leaned over him.

John sped up his stokes. The weight and dimensions of Sherlock’s organ growing in his hand. A brief thought that this engorged cock had been inside him repeatedly for the past three days flashed through John’s mind. He felt a tingle slide up his spine at the idea. The realization it would be there again and hopefully soon. John sped up again.

“Sherlock, I’m not playing . . . you will do what I want, won’t you.” John dragged his teeth playfully along the detective’s jaw.

“ _Jawn . . . Jawn . . .”_ Sherlock moaned the omega’s name as he climaxed again. The bath water washing the pearly liquid away.

The dark haired man’s head was tipped back over the edge of the tub. His eyes were closed and he was panting hard. John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock’s naked chest. Sherlock tipped his head back up and looked at John through hooded eyes. A broad relaxed smile across his flushed face.

“John, that was very devious of you.” Sherlock reached forward and pulled the omega flush with his chest. “You can not hold me to anything I might say in the throes of pleasure.”

“Oh but I will. If it is the only way I can be certain to win an argument with you, I will get you off as often as I can.”

A sexy little curve came to the corner of Sherlock’s lips. “You know, good doctor, turnabout is fair play.”

“I certainly hope so.” John smiled broadly.


	8. Chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2010 Moran after the pool confronts Moriarty  
> 2010 John learns things are about to change for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two time lines are almost about to merge. Warning, things are going to be violent between Moran and Moriarty. And Jim will use the 'c' word. I was told to warn people about that. (?) 
> 
> Thanks for the support those who are still with me in this story. Moran will begin to go off the deep end from this point on. The next chapter will be SIB with big spoilers. So if you haven't seen it yet, quit wasting your time reading this and watch it!

2010 London England

Moran paced rapidly around the bedroom in the townhouse that Moriarty had provided for them as a base of operation. He had just gotten back from the pool. He could still smell the pungent chlorine. The sound of John’s voice still clung to him. He had seen John. John Watson was alive and living in London. His John. His omega. The omega was alive and living happily without him.

The anger was bubbling up inside the alpha. Twenty months he had worried and feared for the omega. Almost two years since John was taken away from him. Twenty month of living in hell wondering if John was even alive. Not once. Not once had John even attempted to contact the alpha. He could have written to him or called. Let the colonel know he was alive and doing well. The omega forgot about him. Forgot about everything that could have been. Moran cursed and he pounded his fist into his other hand.

If just once, John had let him know he was safe . . . alive . . . then how different things would have been. Moran wouldn’t have deserted. He wouldn’t have joined Moriarty. He wouldn’t have become a killer. Just once. All the pain and suffering that Moran had felt and caused was because of John Watson. ‘ _Selfish, thoughtless, John Watson_.’ Moran thought. He hated the omega. He hated the fact he loved the omega.

Moran spun and saw one of the few items he had taken with him from the army. A photograph he never let leave his possession. He had carried it for months inside his uniform. Later, after he deserted and was set up in Paris, he bought a wooden frame for it. The photo was wrinkled and stained with sweat, but the image was still very clear to see. It was of Moran and John, standing and smiling at the camera. Both men were in their fatigues. John’s shirt was off and he just had on a brown military t-shirt. His muscled upper arms were exposed and tanned. Moran’s left arm was wrapped in a friendly manor around John’s shoulders. His head tipped towards the omega. Their blonde hair bleached by the sun. In John’s arm was the .338 Lapua.

Moran picked the picture frame up and looked at the photo. He dragged his finger across the glass and over the image of John holding the sniper rifle. This was his John. This was his omega. Not the man at the pool. He didn’t know who that was. This was the John Watson he did everything for and the other John took him away.

Moran roared as he spun and threw the picture frame as hard as he could at the opposite wall. The picture frame shattered, and crashed to the floor. Splintered wood and broken glass. The alpha could feel the release of adrenaline rush through his body. The heady indulgence of a primitive need to destroy.

James Moriarty stood just a few feet away from where the picture frame dented the plaster. He was leaning back against the wall. His suit jacket and tie were missing. His white shirt covered arms and he crossed them over his chest. His right knee bent as his right foot rested up on the wall in a seductive pose.

“Did that feel good?” He asked. His Irish accent coming through thicker.

“Fuck off. I don’t need your bloody arrogance now.”

James laughed softly. “What, the poor little tiger learn his true love is just another whore?”

Moran glared at the man before he turned away and started to pace again.

“You don’t know a bloody thing! Get OUT!”

“I know the omega you’ve been pinning for all these months . . . the omega you gave up the army for . . . the only one you ever cared for is presently shacking up with Sherlock Holmes.” James pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to the fuming alpha. “What is it about the boring ones that attracts all the alphas . . . if I bleached my hair blonde and wore a simpering stupid expression, would you fall at my feet too?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I know that John Watson is devoted to Holmes. That the good doctor follows the man around like he is on a leash . . . Maybe that’s it. He is Sherlock’s little pet. Johnny Boy likes to be collared . . . do you think he sits naked at Sherlock’s feet at home.”

Moran screamed and rushed at the smaller man. He grabbed James’ shoulders and pushed him back hard into the wall. James’ head bounced off the plaster as pain shot through his shoulder blades. The dark haired man laughed as the alpha growled and threatened.

“I bet you right now he has little Johnny Boy on his knees sucking cock.” James teased.

Moran’s fist punched a hole in the wall beside James’ head. The omega didn’t even flinch. He just kept his eyes fixed on the alpha’s water grey eyes.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“He will probably be plowing that little cunt later tonight.”

James watched as the light shifted in Moran’s eyes. The sudden sickening thrill rushed through James’ stomach. He knew he went too far . . . or maybe he went far enough. Moran growled deeply. An intense threating growl that rumbled from the hollows of the earth. Ancient and foreboding. James didn’t even have time to react before Moran pushed his face into James’. Their mouths smeared across each other’s. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an assault. There was no passion, only violence and the promise of more violence.

Moran pulled back with a stain of James’ blood across his mouth. James hadn’t even felt the sharp pain of the bite to his lower lip. But seeing the blood, he licked his lips and found the gash under the metallic smear of blood. James’ heart was beating wildly in his chest. His limps felt useless as the rush of fear crashed through his body.

Moran wrapped his arms around the omega’s waist and picked him up. He heaved the smaller man to the bed. James bounced once before the alpha was on top of him. The sound of ripping fabric announce the destruction of Moriarty’s white shirt. Moran attacked James’ bare chest with his teeth and lips. Nipping and marking the pale flesh and he moved from the man’s neck to his waistband. Moriarty moaned and twisted under Moran. Not resisting the alpha’s advances nor relenting to them. Moriarty scratched and clawed at the alpha, while he pulled the blonde hair.

Moran leaned back on his heels and grabbed James’ ankles. He violently twisted and flipped the smaller man over on to his stomach. Moriarty gasped as he was tossed like a rag doll. The alpha reached around and fumbled with the button and fly of Moriarty’s trousers. He yanked so hard, the sound of ripping stiches could be heard. The alpha pulled the omega’s trousers and pants down to his ankles. Moran grabbed James hips and lifted them up. James tried to get to his hands and knees, but the soldier’s large hand pushed the smaller man’s chest back down to the mattress.

James screamed as the first finger was shoved into him. He squeezed his eyes tight. Tears slipped out and clung to his black eyelashes. He clawed at the sheets and tried to wiggle away. Moran held him tight and wouldn’t let him escape. By the time the second finger slid in, the omega’s slick was covering Moran’s fingers and beginning to run down the omega’s thighs. He tried to push up again but Moran slapped James’ arse cheek. The loud crack of hand to skin sounded like a gunshot. Moriarty yelped then moaned seductively. He wiggled his arse as Moran kneeled up and opened the front of trousers.

Moran cleared his throat and spat on his hard cock. The omega was already slick in anticipation but there was something primeval in marking the omega internally. He smeared the spittle over the throbbing length and lined himself up. James push back, welcoming the cock into his body. He gave a low seductive groan as Moran pushed into the omega. James clawed at the sheets. His body giving over the alpha’s control.

Moran paused for a moment, relishing the heat and tightness of the omega’s body. He pulled out slightly, then slammed in hard and fast, not giving James time to adjust. The dark haired man shouted out a curse. Moran smiled and did it again. The pace was fast and cruel. The omega was pushed and pulled. His body was bruised by fingers and teeth.

Moran closed his eyes and fantasied this was John Watson. It was ‘his omega’ he was hammering into. His hands smoothed up the man’s sides and Moran frowned. The body was too thin. Not enough muscles, not strong enough to be John’s. He opened his eyes. Instead of blonde hair he saw black hair; and pale skin instead of tan. Moran growled again and started to thrust harder through his anger.

Then Moran’s sniper accuracy came into play. After just a few tries, he found the omega’s prostate. The alpha started to hit it with every thrust. The smaller man was weeping as his body succumb to the onslaught. He climaxed untouched. Pour himself out over the torn and disheveled sheets. James’ body collapsed and became limp. Moran continued his pounding. He relished the whimpers from the omega as he continued to abuse the man’s body. The final barrier broke and wave after wave crashed over the alpha. He pulsated deep in the omega’s body. Empting himself in the heat of James’ canal.

As his body drained into James, Moran’s anger drained away. He was exhausted. He collapsed to the side. He was laying flat on his back staring at the ceiling as his breath rushed in and out of his lungs.

Moriarty was kneeling beside him on the bed. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed. His body still trembling from the incident.

“Go ahead . . . call someone . . . to shoot me . . . I don’t care . . . do me a fucking favor . . . and kill me.” Moran said between breaths.

James twisted slowly to lay down on his side. He body hurt and curled into a ball. He blinked his eyes and looked up at the blonde soldier.

“No . . . I have other plans for you.”

Moran turned to look at the omega. The anger and bitterness was beginning to boil again.

“Are you going to rape me again?”

Moriarty smiled and Moran felt a sickening twist in his stomach.

“In twenty minutes you are going to fuck me again, but use more finesse this time.”

“But . . .”

“You are going to be my pet soldier . . . Holmes has his . . . I will have mine.”

Twenty minutes later, Seb slipped his cock back into James body. They were spooned up together on their sides. Moran had his arm around James’ shoulder and his other arm under James’ thighs. He was pinning the thighs to James’ torso, leaving the omega open and vulnerable to him. Moran moved slowly and deliberate. Making sure James could feel everything. The excruciating drag of his cock over James’ muscles and the pressure of each thrust into the omega’ body.

James was moaning and trying to wiggle free from Moran’s grasp. He was trapped and immobile. Just like he wanted to be. As Moran sped up and started an earnest assault on James’ prostate, the omega screamed out and scratched the alpha’s arm. Begging and pleading for more.

As Moran felt the first wave of the orgasm wash over the omega, the solder leaned forward and bit down. He wanted to taste the bright and fresh taste of John. Moran tasted something sharp and bitter like gin. He closed his eyes and bit harder. The rush of blood and James’ scent flooded his mouth as tears slipped down the soldier’s face.

2010 London England

As Sherlock had asked, John stayed in the flat for the first three days after his heat and their bonding. The two men carried on as before, Sherlock writing up the notes from his experiments and John reading or watching crap TV. But John noticed a distinct difference in Sherlock.

Before when they ate at the kitchen table, they sat opposite of each other. After the bonding, Sherlock had slid his chair over so they were closer together. Sherlock had also dragged his black and chrome chair closer to John’s chair so when John sat reading in it, Sherlock could stretch his bare feet over and brush against John’s bare feet. Then, when John sat on the couch, Sherlock insisted on sprawling out across it, using John’s thigh a pillow. Even at crime scenes, Sherlock insisted John stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Basically, Sherlock guaranteed himself would be within touching distance of the good doctor at any time.

John couldn’t believe he actually found it comforting. Before the bonding, if an alpha had been that possessive or tactile, John would have punched them but now it just seem natural and reassuring. It caused a warmth to fill John’s body. Weeks later, John returned to work. Sherlock reluctantly let John go. Although at noon, Sherlock showed up and insisted on taking John to lunch. John smiled softly as he followed the tall detective out and down the street to Ethiopian restaurant. The two men had a meal of lamb and lentils.

The two seemed to quickly fall into a comfortable routine of work and the ‘Work’. Covert touches and reassuring glances. It was just for them and worked for them. Nights were spent in each other’s arms.

Just over a month later after the bonding, John came into the kitchen to fix breakfast. Sherlock sat at his microscope and looked at the spore formation of Aspergillus. The alpha’s eyes flipped up from the scope to watch John start to make coffee.

“John, you’ll need to switch to decaf.”

The sleepy doctor turned to look at his mate. He blinked a few times trying to understand what Sherlock had just said to him.

“Decaf? Why?”

“Because of the baby.” Sherlock’s eyes switched back to the fungus he was studying.

“Baby? What baby?”

“John, you’re pregnant.”

“I bloody am not!” John’s voice broke. How could the man believe John was pregnant? They wouldn’t even know until his next heat in three months. He could take a home pregnancy test but why? John was in his late thirties. There would be no way he was pregnant.

“John, you are pregnant. I can smell it on you.” Sherlock looked up into the omega’s stunned eyes.

John’s legs seemed to no longer support the doctor’s weight. He weaved slightly then collapsed into the chair next to Sherlock.

“Pregnant!? Oh my God . . . what are we going to do?”

Sherlock smiled. “Well, obviously have a pup together. I will notify Mrs. Hudson that we will need the attic space.” Sherlock pushed himself back from the table and stepped away from the confused omega. It was time to test his theory about John.

“Attic space?”

“Yes, for the nanny. Your old bedroom will become the nursery and the nanny can sleep above it in the attic.”

“Sherlock, why are we getting a nanny?” John seemed to feel a wave of bafflement wash over him. Sherlock was rushing head long into this pregnancy without proof John was actually with child. “If I am pregnant and we do have a pup, I don’t want a nanny. I want to raise our child myself.”

“Oh John, don’t be ridiculous. You are a doctor and we have the Work. We can’t be taking a baby with us everywhere.” Sherlock turned away so John couldn’t see the smile playing to come out.

“Well, maybe I’ll just quit being a doctor . . .”

Sherlock turned and glared at him. “John, it is only for a while, then the pup will be off to Brambletye then Harrow.”

“What?! No . . . what if it’s a girl? She can’t go to Harrow!”

“Brenenden, obviously, John. Do keep up.”

“You keep up! I’m not sending my child off to some snotty posh school! I will raise my own pup! I’ll take them anywhere I want . . . including crime scenes!”

Sherlock smile brightened. “Our pup, John. I’m glad to hear you say that. I didn’t want to send them off, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t either.”

Sherlock rushed over and picked John out of the chair and hugged him. He leaned down a placed a kiss on the stunned man’s lips.

“You just did that to spin me up, didn’t you?”

“I needed to know where you stood on educating our children.”

“Children? . . . I’m not even pregnant and now you are talking about children. Plural?”

“But you are John. Like I said before. I can smell the change in your scent. You are pregnant.”

John looked carefully into Sherlock’s eyes and could see the honesty and pride in them. He was pregnant. He was in his late thirties and pregnant for the first time.

“You’re an annoying dick.”

A playful smile crept over Sherlock’s expression as he stepped closer. “I thought you enjoyed my annoying dick.”

He wrapped his arms around the omega and gave John a nipping kiss under the man’s ear. The small omega leaned into his mate.

“I’m going to make sure you regret that . . . and no nanny!” John growled.

“Well, I agree but don’t be surprised if Mycroft has other plans. It will be his nephew or niece. I expect tremendous interference from him and my parents.”

John rolled his eyes this time.

“I’ve faced down the Taliban. I think I can handle your mum.” John smiled.


	9. Chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scandal in Belgravia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, long chapter with big spoilers for SIB. Of course the best dialog is not mine but Moffat's and Gatiss'. (Two of the best fan fiction writers out there.)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story.

2010 London, England

The day after Moran and Moriarty bonded, the two left for Milan, then Dubai. Moran became the threatening shadow at the powerful omega’s shoulder. If anyone meeting with Moriarty wasn’t intimidated enough by James, the glaring alpha standing behind him scared them to death. Moriarty opened more of his network up to Moran to see. The ex-soldier had only known a little beyond Moriarty’s assassination squad. Now he learned of James’ connection to weapons and illegal drug trade. Human trafficking and extortion. Also he learned that James was involved in numerous legitimate companies around the world. The man’s fingers were controlling the reins of several multinational corporations. He had bonded with a very powerful omega.

Moran wondered if that was the reason why James had insisted on the two of them bonding in the first place. James had been a powerful omega but now as a bonded omega he was given legitimacy. Before, he would garner sideway glances and muttered comments. Now as Moran’s bond mate, he could walk into a room and have instantaneous respect. The thought increased Moran’s self-loathing. To know he was only there as window dressing and a visible threat and James actually had no emotional connection with him.

Their sex did continue and often. But Moran found himself being fucked as much as he was fucking the dark haired omega. There was no passion or sharing or raw aggression. He discovered, James enjoyed humiliating his partners in bed. Moran had refused to be tied up and beaten by the small omega, but he was required to sit and watch as James did it to other alphas. Alpha business partners who had failed to follow through with their promises to James. James relished gaging these alphas and using his various crops and whips on them. The alphas so ashamed, they never told anyone of their assaults.

Four months later, Moran found himself back in London with his bond mate. Something had been bothering James since the bombing of a German aircraft. He had received a phone call that very night from Yemen. It had interrupted them having sex. After the call, James got out of bed and quickly dressed. He left Moran laying in the bed with an aching hard cock and a head full of self-hatred.

After the two arrived back in London, Moran was sent to a street just west of Regents Park. A simple plain street of white townhouses with black doors. He was told to wait until the residences of 221 stepped out and photograph them leaving. It was a peculiar request but Moran didn’t really have the ability of complain.

He stood around the corner and watched as the black saloon parked out front. The men were obviously special service. ‘ _James knew something was happening’_ , Moran thought. He just wished his bond mate trusted him enough to tell him. Moran waited fifteen minutes, then the three men stepped out with another man wrapped in a white sheet. Moran instantly took a photograph without looking at the dark haired man in the sheet. Then he took another and the face became recognizable. Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was being taken away in a sheet by special services. Moran heart began to beat again. John wasn’t with Holmes. Maybe John was left alone in the flat. Moran waited till the men drove off. He sent the photos to James as he quickly rushed across the street to door. Just as he was about to try the lock, the door opened and a petite woman in a purple dress appeared with another man. The man, a beta, was pale and overweight. His hair was dark and thinning. Moran could smell the fear on the beta’s skin.

“Oh . . . hello.” The elderly woman smiled at Moran. “John and Sherlock aren’t here right now. Please try back later.”

‘ _John and Sherlock’_ Moran growled inside. They were still together. The woman didn’t seem surprised to see the tall alpha standing at her door. He tried to seem less threatening.

“Do you know when they will return?” Moran knew John wasn’t with Sherlock.

“Never can tell with those two, dearie. Just try tonight, I think.” She gently pushed the other beta out the door and smiled at Moran before she closed it.

The overweight beta glanced at Moran then quickly walked away. Moran stared for a moment at the door. For a brief moment he thought about kicking it in and rushing in to find John, but then he decide to wait. To wait and be more subtle about finding John and taking him away from the dark haired alpha.

~221~

John sat in the helicopter watching as Buckingham Palace came into view. He mouth went dry and he felt a sudden sickening feeling. He knew it wasn’t morning sickness. John realized where the helicopter was taking him.

He rested his hand over his small baby bump as he wandered down the hall and was shown into the reception room. He paused at the door to see his bond mate quietly sitting on the settee with a white sheet wrapped around his long frame. Without a word the omega sat down beside Sherlock, glancing curiously around the ornate room. He glanced at his bond mate.

“Are you wearing any pants?”

“No.”

“Okay . . .”

The two men broke out in giggles.

“Buckingham Palace? . . . I’m serious fighting the impulse to steal an ashtray . . . What are we doing here? Seriously, what?”

“I don’t know?” Sherlock said trying to not to laugh.

“Are we here to see the queen?” John asked.

Mycroft stepped around the corner and into the room.

“Apparently yes . . .”

The two men broke down giggling again. Mycroft Holmes was not assumed.

The older alpha had a case for the consulting detective and his omega. A case from an unknown client of extreme importance. Half an hour later John followed his alpha out of the palace listening to Sherlock’s claim he would have the incriminating photographs before the day was out.

Later, John and Sherlock were headed to Belgrave Square. Sherlock order the taxi to stop and the tall man pulled the good doctor from the vehicle. He pulled John down the narrow alley of Belgrave Mews. They didn’t notice the blonde man following them. They missed him sneaking into the shadows behind some cars.

Sherlock turned and braced himself.

“Punch me in the face.” Sherlock said matter of fact.

“Punch you?”

“Yes . . . punch me in the face . . . didn’t you hear me?”

“I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ when your speaking but it’s usually subtext.”

“Oh, God . . .”

Sherlock punched John in the side of his face. Moran started to leap forward from his hiding place to go the omega’s rescue. Just as he was stepping out from behind the cover, he saw John turn and punch Sherlock back. The tall alpha went down.

“Good for you, John.” Moran said as he watched the two men. He slipped back into his hiding space, then he watched John tackle the alpha and place him in a head lock.

“Okay . . . I think we’re done now, John . . .” Sherlock grunted out as John wrapped his forearm around the man’s throat.

“You need to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier . . . I killed people . . .”

“You were a doctor . . .”

“I HAD BAD DAYS!”

“John . . . the baby . . .”

John immediately let go of the alpha and step back. A protective hand went to his abdomen and cupped the small bulge. Moran heard the word. ‘Baby.’ He stared at John’s body, trying to see if he could tell if the omega was pregnant.

The scene played out in Moran’s head again. Sherlock Holmes had punched the pregnant omega. His pregnant omega. He had hit John. Forced the omega to attack back. He watched as John stepped around the tall dark haired man and started to walk out of the Mews. Sherlock following him, rubbing his already bruising cheek.

Moran hated the man even more. _‘What kind of sick, perverse alpha does that to his omega?’_ Moran thought. He wondered how much abuse John had suffered at the hands of the cold unfeeling alpha. Had John suffered with Sherlock like Moran had suffered from James? He wanted to rush forward and pull John away. He want to save the man from the abusive brute he was bonded too.

~221~

John watched helplessly as his bond mate flirted with the woman. Irene Adler had been expecting them. She had planned such an outlandish entrance as to completely throw the detective off his game. Sherlock stumbled over his words then sat completely transfixed by the woman’s appearance. John watched as Sherlock stared at her naked body and studied her movements as he tripped over his own explanations. John felt the burning pangs of jealousy bloom in his chest. He wanted to button his jacket and cover up his abdomen. Protect his unborn child from this woman. Hide from Sherlock’s obvious attraction to her.

When the CIA agent held the gun to back of John’s head, all he could think of was Sherlock. Sherlock kept denying he knew the combination. He stood there as his bond mate and child were being threatened. All John could do was listen as the man counted down till the trigger would be pulled. And waited.

Just one more look into Sherlock’s silver eyes. One more glance at the man he loved, the alpha he finally could be with. John looked up to see Sherlock looking at the woman instead of him. In the final moment of John’s life, Sherlock was looking at Irene. He closed his eyes and bent his head down. He and their child were to die and Sherlock was looking at Irene. John wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Sherlock again.

Sherlock saved his life but at what cost to them. Sherlock let Irene trick him. It was obvious that Sherlock allowed her to do so. John couldn’t imagine his bond mate could be so easily duped. As Sherlock laid on the floor struggling to get up, Irene gave a parting jab at the pregnant omega. Sherlock had looked at her naked body and took careful note of it. Sherlock appreciated her figure that he knew her measurements. It stung. The blatant insult to John’s physique. John hated her.

~221~

Moran watched as the police arrived at the townhouse. He watched as John and a grey haired policeman carried Holmes from the house. For a moment he thought the alpha might have been shot, then he noticed the drugged swagger and the anger expression on John’s face. John and the policeman tossed the alpha into the backseat of the unmarked car. John got into the backseat with Holmes and the policeman got behind the wheel.

Moran was about to follow them when he received a text. He pulled out his mobile and saw that it was from James.

“Leaving for Moscow tonight. Get back here now, tiger.”

Moran growled, and shoved the mobile into his pocket. He looked up to watch John drive passed him. The omega didn’t even look at him as they turned the corner and drove away. John never saw him.

~221~

It had been two months and John was five months pregnant. There was no hiding it, now. For two months, neither man mentioned Irene Adler again. Sherlock and John had been working on cases with Lestrade. John had been working at the clinic. Everything seemed normal, but John knew Sherlock was still in contact with her. He knew every time Sherlock’s phone notified him of a text with the sound of that woman’s gasp. The seductive echo of an exhale. Fifty-six texts. Fifty-six times Sherlock was unfaithful to John and their baby.

John was lying next to Sherlock in their bed. Sherlock’s fingers were tracing circles over John’s swelling belly, when his phone made that obscene sound. Sherlock immediately rolled away from John and left their bed. John curled into a ball around his stomach. He kept telling himself it was hormones and he forced himself to not get upset. To not cry.

On Christmas Eve, John had insisted they invite their friends over for drinks. Molly Hooper, people from the clinic and Greg. John was trying to not think about Sherlock and Irene. He wanted to have something happy to think about. He was trying to play cupid between the detective inspector and Molly. Mrs. Hudson was more than happy to assist. They were enjoying the evening, when Sherlock’s phone texted again.

“Fifty-seven?” John said exasperated and hurt. Then he learned ‘The Woman’ had been in their flat without his knowledge. She had left a present for Sherlock. John wanted to scream. He watched as Sherlock fled their party to open Irene’s gift alone. Then Sherlock did the unthinkable. He closed the door when John went to check on him. Shut John out. The pain was becoming unbearable for the omega. His only relief was when Mycroft told him that Irene Adler was found dead that night. Beaten beyond recognition. Sherlock had identified the body by ‘not her face.’

~221~

“He’s writing sad music . . . doesn’t eat . . . barely talks . . . except to correct the television . . . I said he was heartbroken, but he’s . . . ah . . . Sherlock . . . he does all that anyway.” John looks around the abandoned power station. He was getting very tired of Mycroft’s dramatic meetings. They were beyond tiresome now that his is seven months pregnant.

John heard the sound of high heels walking across the concrete floors.

“Hello, Doctor Watson.”

He stared at her. Irene Adler standing there in front of him. He stared at her for several heart beats. The woman whom John believed was taking Sherlock away from him. Even in death, she was taking his alpha away from him.

“Tell him you’re alive.” He said softly.

“He’ll come after me.”

“I’ll come after you if you don’t.”

“I believe you . . .”

John felt the air being sucked out of his lungs. He hated this woman. He hated that he believed Sherlock cared more for her than him. And as much as this was destroying him, he knew Sherlock’s happiness meant more to him than his own. If she could make Sherlock happier than he could, John would have to stand back and let her.

How had it all gone so wrong? What had he missed? He had always been afraid that Sherlock would bore of him. That he would be unable to hold his alpha’s attention. The further in the pregnancy John got the less time Sherlock would spend with him. The detective would go off on his own, leaving the pregnant omega alone in the flat. He quit taking John to cases with him. Sherlock rarely came to bed with John any longer. John woke up too many times to cold sheets and an empty flat.

His throat burned as he spoke to Irene. He desperately forced the tears back. He felt he could see the future. He would have Sherlock’s pup, but Irene would have Sherlock. John would be passed to the back. No longer an importance to the man except at the parent to his child.

“There, ‘I’m not dead. Let’s have dinner.’” Irene read the text she was sending to Sherlock. “Are you jealous?”

Yes, John was jealous but he was not going to give the woman the pleasure of knowing.

“Who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes . . . but for the record, if anyone out there still cares . . . I do not need an alpha. Don’t need one to be happy, don’t want one.”

The sound of a woman’s gasp came across the room. Not from Irene but from the shadows. The sound of Sherlock’s phone. John felt the bottom of his world fall out. He heard the sound of solid steady footsteps walking away. John took a step to follow but Irene held up her hand.

“I don’t think so . . . do you?” Irene said watching John as he realized of what he had said for Sherlock to hear.

By his own words, he had rejected his alpha.

~221~

That evening after everything had calm down from the CIA agents whom had attacked Mrs. Hudson had been dealt with, after Lestrade left with the ambulance and the police, John came up to the flat. Sherlock was standing at the window, his violin in his hands. The alpha’s long fingers were testing the strings as he pointedly did not look at his bond mate.

John moved slowly and purposefully through the flat. He removed his coat and set about fixing himself a small glass of whiskey. He knew he shouldn’t drink but after the day he had, he needed the warmth of the liquor. John wanted to talk to Sherlock but didn’t know how to start. He took a sip of the whiskey to give himself a moment’s courage.

“Whatever is on that camera phone . . . is more than pictures.”

“Yes it is.” Sherlock’s voice was flat. It lacked the deep resonance John always found so alluring.

“So she’s alive then . . . how are we feeling about that.”

The sound of the church bells could be heard in the distance. The time was midnight.

“Happy New Year, John.” Sherlock remained facing the window.

“Are you going to see her again?”

Sherlock finally turned and looked at John. He glanced at the glass in the omega’s hand then back up at the doctor, frowning.

“Are you leaving?”

“I asked you first.” John said trying to not shake.

“Tell me . . . are you leaving me?”

John looked at the man carefully. He could see Sherlock’s knuckles were turning white as he held the bow tightly. He noticed the slight shake in Sherlock’s shoulders. He didn’t know if he could trust the man. If Sherlock was truthfully afraid of John leaving.

“No.” It was soft. So very softly said but it was still heard. “Are you going to see her again?”

Sherlock turned away without answering and slipped the violin under his chin. He drew the bow across the strings and played the first ten notes of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Then he paused, taking a moment before turned and looked at his mate. He started to play one of John’s favorites. ‘Fantasia on a Theme’ by Thomas Tallis.

John set the tumbler of alcohol down. He sat in his chair and listened to Sherlock play. John closed his eyes and let the music float above him. Wash over him. For a moment, as the notes hovered between them, John believed. He believed Sherlock still loved him. That Sherlock would always love him. He would always be here with the man. The unbearable ache he had been carrying around inside his chest lightened and he smiled. For the few minutes the song lasted, John felt safe.

~221~

Sherlock became more attentive to John for the next two weeks. He went with John to do the shopping. The two men were placing the finishing touches on the nursery and were spending their evenings together on the sofa, just being together. Although, during the day, Sherlock was transfixed by Irene’s camera phone. He kept trying to discover what the code was to unlock the thing.

On afternoon, returning from a short trip to Tesco, John was putting away the groceries, when Sherlock stepped into the flat and noticed the scent. He stepped into the kitchen and saw the open window. Sherlock followed the scent through the flat to their bedroom.

“Sherlock?” John called out. He came around the corner and started to walk towards his bond mate.

“We have a client.”

“What? . . . In the bedroom? . . .” John stepped in the room beside Sherlock and saw her. Asleep in their bed. Irene Adler. “Oh . . .”

John tried to sit patiently as he watched the two people joust back and forth. She explained she kept information as well as photos on the phone for her protection. Irene told Sherlock she found something but didn’t know what it meant. Something, people were willing to kill her for.

“Show me.” Sherlock said.

Irene held out her hand for the phone. He hesitated before he handed it over to her. Irene smiled and twisted slightly to obscure the screen. She typed in the four numbers.

“It’s not working.” She said confused.

“No, it a duplicate which I had made.” He grabbed the mobile from her hand and quickly looked at the numbers. Then he typed them into the actual camera phone he had secreted in his pocket. The mobile buzzed with the incorrect passcode.

John watched as the smug expression on his alpha slipped away.

“I told you that camera phone was my life . . . I know when it is in my hand.” She said looking up at Sherlock.

“Oh, you’re rather good.” Sherlock said in his deep melodious voice.

“You’re not so bad.”

The two stood staring at each other. Sharing a moment of complete admiration and duplicity. John watched as Sherlock became transfixed by the woman again.

“Hamish . . . John Hamish Watson . . . just if you were looking for baby names.” He turned around and looked at his computer. He couldn’t believe his alpha was openly flirting with the woman in front of him. In front of his pregnant omega. John tried to swallow the burning pain down. He couldn’t look at them anymore.

Irene explained that she had acquired an email for a MOD official. He showed the fragmented email to Sherlock. She thought it was a code. Sherlock sat down across from John and studied the email.

“Go on, Mister Holmes, impress a girl.” She leaned over to kiss him.

John slammed his mug of tea down on the desk top. ‘ _H_ ow _dare she kiss him in front of his bond mate!’_ Before he could speak, Sherlock rattled off.

“There’s a margin of error, but I’m pretty sure there’s a 747 leaving Heathrow at six-thirty in the evening leaving for Baltimore . . . apparently it’s going to save the world . . . I not sure how that could be true, but give me moment I’ve only been on the case for eight seconds.”

John sat stunned at Sherlock’s revelation. Sherlock seemed exasperated as he explained his deductions to the omega and the woman. He explained about seat numbers and row identification. The type of airplane and airlines that would have those specific numbers and rows. How the timing meant it had to be within the next few days. He said that there was only one flight that would meet all those criteria and it was the six-thirty flight leaving the following night.

Sherlock rose from his seat with his arrogant expression in place.

“Please don’t feel oblige to tell me that was remarkable or amazing . . . John has expressed that thought in every possible variant to English language.”

“I would have you right here on this desk till you beg for mercy twice.”

Sherlock’s eyes were locked on Irene’s. John thought the two had forgotten he was in the room until Sherlock told him to look up the information. John waited for Sherlock to push her away. To reject her. He didn’t.

“I never beg for mercy in my life . . .” he said to her.

“Twice.”

John mentioned the flight number and Sherlock was distracted again from the two other people in the room. John watched his bond mate start pacing around the room, whispering the flight number. John glance up at Irene. The woman was smiling at him. She was happily telling him, that she could take his mate away from him and their child whenever she wanted.

John wanted to punch the woman. He wouldn’t, but he wanted too. He stood up quickly, the chair legs scrapping across the wooden floor. John slammed his laptop computer shut and turned to Sherlock.

“Tell, Mycroft, Sherlock.”

The detective was already deep into his mind palace.

“Sherlock!?” John shouted but the detective just paced.

John turned back and looked at the smug expression on the woman’s face. John had had enough of the two of them. Of the shameless flirting and the painful indifference to him. He grabbed his jacket as he walked out of the flat. No reason to stick around if no one cared if you were there.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He couldn’t zip the wool coat over his stomach as his pregnancy had made it impossible. Eight months pregnant and his alpha was flirting with another person in front of him.

John started walking east. He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just had to leave. Get away from the two of them. His anger propelling him further and further away from the flat. The burning pain in his chest was all he could feel.

It had been an hour and he was still waking. Moving closer to Bart’s with each step. He wasn’t sure if that was where he wanted to go, he just knew he could no longer be in his home with Sherlock.

He rounded the corner and bumped into the tall blonde. Their shoulders rubbing.

“Sorry, mate.” John muttered as he kept walking. His head down, his eyes fixed ahead of himself.

“John?” the voice was deep and familiar.

John stopped and turned to see the man. The tall blonde from his past.

“Colonel Moran!” John rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the older soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are candy. Thanks.


	10. Chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Seb finally have a chance to talk but Seb can't tell him the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments. I realize the story was beginning to drag, but it should move much faster now. Warning, next chapter will have a descriptive childbirth.

Moran had been watching 221 Baker Street for several days. He had taken a flat across the street where he could spy on the residence of 221B without being seen. Whenever he could sneak away from James he came to the flat and sat at the window. The scope from one of his sniper rifles in his hand. He watched as the John and Holmes come and go. Sometimes, John would leave alone. Moran would rush out of the flat and follow John when he was alone. He would follow John to the shops and out into the park when the omega went on walks. Moran was amazed at how big John belly was since the last time he had seen him. John’s pregnant stomach was prominent on the small omega’s frame.

This day Moran was sitting in the window and watched as Holmes and John had returned from shopping. The alpha growled as he watched John carry the white shopping bags while Holmes studied his phone. Moran watched through the windows of the opposite flat at the three people inside. Holmes and that woman Adler and his John. The omega was sitting at the desk and was obviously upset. He could tell by the slope of John’s shoulders and the stiffness he held in his back. Moran wondered why Holmes had not noticed John’s discomfort. Why Holmes was allowing Adler into his flat with the pregnant omega.

If John was Moran’s omega . . . if John had been carrying Moran’s child, he wouldn’t have let anyone near his prize possession. Moran’s bond mate would be hidden away. Kept safe and protected. Moran wouldn’t let allowed one of Moriarty’s agents that close to John. Moran spent many hours watching through the windows of 221 B Baker Street entertaining himself with the ‘what if’s’. If only John had been his . . . if only John had bonded with him . . . if only the pup John was carrying was his pup, too. He lived out a whole fantasy life with John while spying on him.

He watched as the door of the residence swung open violently and John stepped out onto the pavement. John’s face was an angry red scowl. The omega shoved his fists deep in the pockets of his black coat. Moran watched as John started to walk off alone. He felt a sudden pull to the man. He quickly grabbed his coat and went after John.

It took the blonde several minutes to catch up with the omega. John was walking ahead of him about a block. Moran could see the man’s shoulders were slumped and his head bowed. John’s pace was quick but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere specifically. He was just walking. Moran followed him for an hour. John was pulling them closer to the City and away from Regent’s Park.

It was getting darker and John was not making any attempt to return to Baker Street. Moran wondered why John was out alone, without his alpha at this time of night. A sudden thought came to him. Now was the time to take John. Now was the time to take what was his. If Holmes was too stupid to keep John locked up and safe, he deserved to lose the omega. John would be Moran’s.

He crossed the street and rushed ahead of John to intercept him. He waited at the corner, when John turned and walked right into him.

“Sorry, mate.” John muttered as he kept walking. His head down, his eyes fixed ahead of himself.

“John?”

“Colonel Moran!” John rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the older soldier. “I can’t believe it! Oh, God, how I’ve missed you all!”

The omega’s arms wrapped tightly around the soldier. It had been so long since Moran had felt such warmth and pleasure from another human being’s touch. Everything stopped. Every thought slipped away. All that mattered in that moment was John was so close and warm. It was all that matter to the old soldier.

“I told you to call me Seb.” A forgotten warmth began to grow inside Moran’s chest. A single ember that had been smothered began to glow again.

Moran’s voice was soft and spoken into the shorter man’s hair. He slowly brought his arms up and carefully wrapped them around the omega. For a brief moment, Moran thought that this must be some cruel dream. That John was holding him and burying his face in Sebastian’s throat only to pull away again. He leaned closer and took a deep breath. Finally he could smell John’s fresh scent again, but it made him even angrier. Under John’s scent was the unmistakable scent of his alpha. Cognac and almonds.

John sighed heavily in his former commander’s arms, enjoying the scent that reminded him of Afghanistan and his friends. Of a time when he was respected and free. Not bonded to man who he believed was infatuated with another person. Slowly John stepped back, but Moran briefly held the omega tight to himself. He looked down into John’s face and saw the sad bitter smile in the young man’s expression.

“Sorry, Colonel . . . I guess it’s the hormones. I didn’t mean to . . .”

“Don’t John . . . it’s is alright . . . I would have be disappointed if you didn’t give me a hug.”

“I didn’t think of you as the . . . I don’t know . . . affectionate type.”

“Well, I guess when two men are shot at the same time, and bleed together, they have a special connection.” He reached out and patted John’s good shoulder.

John reached up and gently rubbed his thumb across Moran’s scar. Brushing the hair back to see it clearer.

“If I didn’t know it was there I wouldn’t have noticed it. You came out better than me from the firefight.”

“I don’t believe so.” Moran felt a wave of regret wash over him. How could he tell John what that firefight had cost him?

“How are the guys? Are you still in Afghanistan or have they moved you somewhere else?”

Moran looked around the two of them. Twilight was tuning rapidly into darkness, and the air was beginning to chill.

“Ah . . . look, there’s a pub over there. Let’s go get a pint.”

John stepped back and pointed to his stomach. Moran smiled softly.

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious. I’ll have a pint you can have a lemonade. Besides, you never could keep up with me.” Moran wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders and pulled the man towards the pub.

“Keep up with you? I did just find. And after little sprout is born, I’ll show you again.” John laughed. It was a wonderful laugh and Moran was feeling lighter and lighter just listening to it.

The two men walked into the pub. John got some sideways glances as he entered but the low threatening rumble from Moran made everyone turn away.

“You know you don’t need to do that.” John said as he slipped into the booth near the back of the pub.

“I don’t like the way they were looking at you.” Moran said as he turned to go to the bar and order their drinks. Stout for him and a lemonade for John. He set the drinks down and slid in next to the omega.

“It’s okay, sir. I’m used to it. They’re just making a comment about a pregnant omega stepping into a bar.”

“I still don’t like it.” Moran took a sip of his drink while his eyes played across the room at the faces watching them.

“So tell me . . . how is every one? Does Carmichael still lose at cards?”

Moran paused for a moment, his attention still fixed on the alphas watching John.

“Carmichael is a wanker. Always bitch’n he’s been cheated. Never could hold his liquor.” Moran snapped.

John pulled back from the soldier. Moran felt John’s sudden reluctance.

“Sorry, John. He is fine. Transferred out after you left. Got two new recruits in, neither as good as you with an assault rifle let alone a Lupua. We miss you, John.” Moran lied to the man. He couldn’t bring himself to tell John he was no longer in the army. He could never tell John he deserted.

John smiled and leaned closer to the alpha. “Well, I wasn’t any good until you trained me.”

“You had a great eye to start with. Can’t train that.”

Moran felt the omega relax beside him. It was like they were back in Sangin. The two of them laughing and sharing stories, ignoring the world around them. Moran felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he looked into John’s deep blue eyes.

The omega’s face was lined with worry and he could see the dark smear under each eye. John wasn’t getting enough rest. Something had been bothering the young omega. Moran thought he knew what it was. He growled silently at Holmes. But the more John talked the more the omega relaxed and eased back into the man Moran had known in Afghanistan. He wanted to keep John just like this. Just like what he was.

Moran made up stories about the men in his unit. Told John things that didn’t happened after he left. It seemed to make John calmer and less agitated.

“I can’t tell you how much I missed you all. I was really out of it until after they got me to Dempsey Barracks. I was heavily sedated for two weeks. When I woke up and they told me . . . they told me I was going to be discharged . . .” John bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I should have notified you. Let you know I was being cut loose.”

“John, I tried to reach . . . we all tried to reach you.” Moran set his hand over John’s. He looked down at their joined hands. “It’s okay. I’m going to make it okay.”

John looked up and Moran could see the redness in John’s eyes. He was trying to not cry.

“John? . . .”

“I’m sorry Seb, it just . . . it must be the hormones. They are making me nuts. I’m swinging this way and that emotionally.”

“The hormones . . . the pup?”

“Yeah. Not a surprise, his sire is enough of a twat to drive me barmy. Pup or not. It just seems that since I got pregnant . . . I don’t know which way he’s coming or going. And there’s this woman . . .”

John looked into Moran’s stoic face. The man was forcing himself to remain unemotional.

“Sorry, Seb . . . I didn’t mean to dump on you.”

“It’s alright, John. So your alpha is . . . cheating on you?” He was going to kill Holmes.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know, I don’t think so. Not intentionally.”

“How do you not intentionally be unfaithful?”

“It was all her. She’s been throwing herself at him.”

“Has he been catching her?” Moran raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe . . . I don’t know.” John shook his head. He never actually saw Sherlock answer any of the texts. He didn’t go out looking for her once he knew she was alive. And she kissed him, not the other way around. “Seb, I just don’t want to think about it anymore. Please . . . can we talk about something else? How are things in Sangin for you all now?”

Moran leaned back in his seat and looked at John’s wishful face. He waved to the barman for a second round of drinks, then began spinning lies to John.

The two sat for a long time in the narrow bench of the booth. They laughed and talked about people they knew together in Afghanistan. Moran didn’t mention anything about leading the convoys through the mountains. He never mentioned he had left the army. He didn’t speak James’ name.

After two and a half hours, the door of the pub opened and a man in a dark suit entered. He walked right up to the table where John and Moran was sitting. John didn’t notice him but Moran saw him as he approached. He glared at the intruder and wondered if Moriarty had found him.

“Doctor Watson-Holmes.” The man said in a deep public school accent.

John looked up at the man then sighed heavily. “What?”

“You should be returning home as soon as possible.” The stranger said.

Moran started to stand. John grabbed Moran’s wrist and pulled him back.

“It’s okay, Seb. He’s from my brother-in-law.” John said as he hung his head. “How long has Mycroft been searching for me?”

“Sir, Mister Holmes requests that you return to your bond mate as quickly as possible.”

“And if he doesn’t want to go?” Moran growled at the government man as he stood.

“I’ve been instructed to bring Doctor Watson-Holmes to his dwellings.” The man didn’t look at the soldier looming to the side.

Moran went to attack again, but John held his wrist tight. “Please, Seb, don’t make a scene. That would be just what Mycroft would want. Proof for him to insist on interfering more.” John stood up. “Do you have a car?”

The government man nodded. John stepped around the table and held out his hand to Moran. The blonde alpha looked down at the offered hand then up at the stranger. He took John’s hand and shook it.

“Thanks for the reminiscing, Seb. It was wonderful to see you after all these years. I really do miss you all.”

Moran finally looked up at John’s face. The worry lines had returned and there was a sadness in John’s eyes.

“You don’t have to go, John.”

“It would be for the best. But track me down. I really would like to see you again when you are on leave.”

“Doctor . . .” the government man said again and waved John to the door.

Moran growled again but the two men ignored him and John left Moran in the bar. He climbed into the back seat of the saloon and was thankful it was empty. It took the car half an hour to make it across London traffic to Baker Street. John didn’t realize it was so late until he saw the empty pavements and the street lights on.

He opened the door as soon as the car pulled to the kerb. He was not going to wait for the driver to open it for him. He stepped out and opened the door of his flat. He could hear Sherlock upstairs abusing his violin. Playing some abstract piece of music that was written to put one’s teeth on edge. He slowly walked up the stairs and into the front room. The fire was burning in the fireplace grate. He noticed it didn’t take the chill off the room. He could still smell Irene in the flat. All of it made him sadder.

Sherlock spun around and saw his mate leaning against the door frame. He put his violin down on the desk and rushed across the small space to John.

“I won John! It was SHERLOCKED, the code! I beat her, John . . . I won and she lost . . .” Sherlock wrapped his arms around the omega and pulled him close. He was about to kiss John when his expression soured. He slipped his arms from around John and grabbed the omega by his wrist as he stepped backwards. Holding John at arm’s length Sherlock said, “I smell another alpha on you.”

“Well, I smell Irene in our home . . . in our bedroom.” John said bitterly.

“Why do you have the scent of another alpha on you? What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been sitting in a pub.” John snapped back. He tried to pull away from Sherlock.

“John! You’re a doctor . . . you know you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re pregnant!” Sherlock let go of John’s wrists. “Did some alpha try and pick you up?!” Anger burned white through Sherlock’s body.

“No I went there with some alpha! And I wasn’t drinking alcohol, I drank lemonade while Seb had a pint!”

“Seb?! What kind of name is Seb?!” Sherlock spit out. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. John was out with some strange alpha while Sherlock had been working to defeat Irene.

“He was my commanding officer in Afghanistan. I was meeting up with a member of Her Majesty’s army.”

Sherlock started pacing around the room. “John . . . you are my bond mate . . . you’re pregnant with my child.”

“Yes I am. Remarkable you remember that but considering Irene is no longer here, I guess it just finally registered with you.”

“John what are you going on about?!”

“You and Irene. The fact that she was going to have you on that desk . . . in front of me!” John’s was shaking his hand at the desk. He didn’t mean to, but his voice raised to a shout.

“It was a game, John. Only a game. And she lost.” Sherlock waved his arms around his head. His voice also raised.

“It didn’t look like a game to me!” John shouted back.

“John, you are my mate . . . I would never betray you.” Sherlock took a step towards John, but the omega backed up.

Sherlock was confused. John never moved away from him. John never denied him.

“John? . . . .” the two men turned to see Sebastian Moran standing on the landing of the stairs.

He took a step towards John, but Sherlock rushed forward and blocked the alpha from getting any closer to his omega. He was suddenly aware of primeval need to defend . . . protect what was his.

“Get out!” Sherlock hissed. “Get out! This is my territory!”

Moran looked Holmes up and down and smirked. Then he looked over the man’s shoulder at the shaking blonde.

“John, come with me.” Moran said in a soft tone. He held out his hand towards John.

Sherlock growled and pushed Moran back out of the flat. The alpha stumbled slightly, then stiffened his body, ready to attack.

“He is my bond mate! Get out!” Sherlock shouted as John stepped forward and yelled simultaneously, “NO!”

The pain was sharp and quick. John grabbed his belly as he felt the shift of the mucus plug inside him. He felt the rush of warm liquid flow out of his body and down his leg. His water had broken. A cold sweat broke out across John’s skin as the realization hit him.

The two alphas were growling at each other. At any minute they were going to start to fight. John needed help. He needed to get to hospital.

“Sherlock . . . please . . .”

The alpha’s attention was on Moran. Sherlock was shouting something at the man when John cried out again.

“Sherlock . . . I need you . . .”

Sherlock quickly spun around and saw the pain etched across John’s face. His trousers were soaked and a pool of blood and liquid formed at his feet.

“JOHN!”

“The baby . . . I need to get to hospital now!”

Sherlock rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his mate. John’s legs gave way and the alpha swooped him up and carried him to the stairs. Moran was on his mobile phoning for an ambulance. Sherlock pushed passed Moran. John in his arms. He started down the stairs carrying the omega.

“The ambulance is on the way.” Moran shouted.

“No time . . .”

Sherlock opened the door and the black saloon the government man was driving was parked at the kerb. The man was standing on the street holding the back door open. Sherlock carefully eased John into the back.

“What is he doing here?” John asked through clinched teeth.

“Mycroft has placed more surveillance in the flat while we were dealing with Adler. They were there for your protection.”

“My protection? You let your brother spy on me for my protections?”

“John I would do anything to keep you safe.”

The car pulled away from the kerb and out into traffic. Immediately, lights began flashing in the grill. Moran stood on the pavement and watched as John drove away. He knew what he was going to do. He had a plan, now.

 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of John and Sherlock's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. Please forgive me. Also there is a clinical type description of child birth. Be ware.

John was rushed from Trauma to the OBGYN floor. Sherlock was holding John’s hand tight as the gurney was wheeled down the hall. Just as they reached the birthing room, Sherlock and John noticed Mycroft standing by the door.

“No . . . absolutely not . . . he is not allowed in there!” John shouted seeing his brother-in-law loitering.

“John, please calm down. I’m here to speak to Sherlock.” Mycroft said dismissing the angry omega.

“Not now, Mycroft . . . John needs me.”

“Sherlock, it is important . . .” Mycroft warned.

The alpha ignored his brother as he pushed passed and into the room with John. The nursing staff helped John up onto the birthing table. Sherlock snuggled in behind his mate, and John laid down with his head resting on Sherlock’s chest and his shoulders in Sherlock’s lap.

Sherlock looked down into the flushed face of his mate. He could see the fear at the corners of John’s lips. The etched worry lines creasing his smooth face. John’s dark blue eyes pleading with him.

“John? . . .” Sherlock asked in a hushed tone.

“It’s too early, Sherlock. It’s too soon.”

“It’s only four weeks. Don’t worry.”

“But his lungs. I don’t know if they will be mature enough.” Sherlock watched as the first tear flooded over the side of John’s eyelash and traveled down his flushed cheek. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

“No, John. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should trust you. I know you would never . . . please forgive me.”

John closed his eyes and nodded his head. His lips were drawn tight as the wave of cramps came over him.

The nursing staff had gotten John out of clothes and had him lying naked in Sherlock’s lap. They were slipping the hospital gown on when the mid-wife arrived. The woman gave John an examination and then reviewed his chart. The nurses and the mid-wife spoke in hush tones glancing occasionally at John and Sherlock. Then the mid-wife left and returned with the attending physician.

“John?” Doctor Mathis asked in a clear demanding tone.

John opened his eyes and looked down over his belly at the man. The doctor was letting a nurse slide his latex gloves on and tying the mask over the beta’s face.

“John, we are going to try and do this natural but if either you or the baby get into distress, we are off to the OR, do you understand?” John nodded. “I need you to say you understand, John.”

“I understand. Just please . . . the baby first.”

“Don’t worry yourself. Everything will be fine.”

John’s feet were placed up into the stirrups and a drape was placed over his legs. John glanced up at Sherlock.

“I love you.” He squeezed the alpha’s hand.

Sherlock felt a wave of fear and admiration flood over him simultaneously. He leaned forward and kissed John’s forehead.

“I love you too.”

He could still smell the other alpha’s scent on John’s skin. He could still see the blonde standing in their flat telling John to come with him. Sherlock’s stomach twisted. Had he really been that close to losing this remarkable man? Had he allowed Adler and her puzzle to blind him to the fact he was letting John slip away?

Sherlock squeezed John’s hands tight as he whispered into the omega’s ear.

“John, you know what you must do . . . I’m here and we will do this together . . . like we do everything.”

John nodded then smiled. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll let you do the pushing and pain and I’ll just sit back and watch.”

“John, you’re being unreasonable again.” Sherlock smiled at his mate. He kissed the blonde’s forehead again. Sherlock would have done anything to remove John from danger. To spare him even the pain of birth.

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s begin.” Dr. Mathis said from between John’s legs. “Next contraction, John, begin to push.”

It began in earnest. John struggled and Sherlock held him tight. The doctor was constantly informing them how far they had come but also how far they needed to go. Sherlock watched as John concentrated on his body and his child. John’s single focus on bring another life into the world. The determination of the soldier reemerged from John. His willingness to endure the pain over and over again brought Sherlock to tears.

Sherlock leaned forward and whispered to John, encouraging him on. His nose dragged over John’s scent gland. The smell of John filled the alpha and soon overwhelmed Moran’s scent still lingering between them.

After an hour, John seemed exhausted. His body limp in Sherlock’s grasp. Sweat soaked through the thin hospital gown and into Sherlock’s clothes.

“John, one more good push. We can see the crown.” Doctor Mathis said. His head down between John’s knees.

Sherlock leaned forward and dragged his nose across John’s ear. “You are so brave. You amaze me, my love.”

John squeezed Sherlock hand tight and pushed. He felt his body give and expel.

“We have a head and a shoulder. Good job, John. Now just wait.” Mathis worked quickly to clean the baby’s face. “Okay, John, just one more push.”

Sherlock bent down and closed his mouth over John’s bond mark. As John pushed, Sherlock gently closed his teeth over their mark. The rush of John’s scent over his tongue as John let out a final shout. Their child coming into the world.

“It’s a boy.” Mathis announced. The child was quickly wrapped in a blanket by the mid-wife and taken over to be aspirated and cleaned.

John collapsed against Sherlock. His eyes were closed as he panted. His face was stained with tears as sweat ran down his neck and body.

“You did it, John, you did it.” Sherlock kept whispering over and over again in the omega’s ear.

The nurse brought baby Holmes over and laid the swathed child on John’s chest. John slowly opened his eyes as he looked down into his son’s face. Sherlock’s arms wrapped around his omega and his child.

“Hello you.” John said weakly.

“He is beautiful.” Sherlock whispered in amazement.

The child had hair already, dark hair. And his eyes were a deep rich shade of blue.

“What is his name?” Doctor Mathis asked as he looked over John’s body at the three of them.

“Hamish?” Sherlock asked.

“No.” John almost snapped. Sherlock looked surprised. “I’m sorry . . . it just will remind me of . . .”

“Of course . . . Then maybe . . . Hamlet. It means ‘home’.”

“William Hamlet Holmes.” John whispered. Sherlock smiled and kissed John’s forehead.

Half an hour later, John was asleep in the hospital room. His child was sleeping in the basinet beside his bed. Sherlock stood over the two of them watching his family. The door opened and Mycroft stepped into the room. Even his brother’s unwanted presence couldn’t pull Sherlock’s gaze way from John and William.

“Sherlock we need to talk.”

“I never seen anything like that before . . .”

“Sherlock . . . it is important.”

“Mycroft, this is important.” Sherlock waved at his family.

“The man who was with John at the pub. The man who came to your flat . . . if was Sebastian Moran . . . Moriarty’s bond mate.”

Sherlock felt his blood turn cold. “Moriarty’s bond mate? But he . . . John said he was his commanding officer in Afghanistan.”

“He was before he deserted and took up with Moriarty. They have been bonded for the past eleven months.”

“Before John and I were. But why did he . . . ? He wanted John to go with him. He was trying to take John away from me.”

John moaned slightly in the bed and two men glanced at him. Sherlock grabbed Mycroft’s arm and pushed him away from the bed. He opened the door and dragged his brother out into the hallway.

“Are you certain?”

“Positive. As soon as the facial recognition identified the man whom had gone into the pub with John as ex-Colonel Sebastian Moran. I sent a car to retrieve the good doctor. Why was he out without you? Especially given his condition?”

“We had a miss understanding.”

“A misunderstanding? Sherlock, what would have happened if I hadn’t been watching over him? If I hadn’t put the extra security on him? What would have happened if Moran had convinced John to go someplace other than a public house?”

Sherlock started to pace up the hall away from John’s room. He didn’t want John to overhear them.

“I made a mistake. I was too focus on Adler to realize John had misinterpreted my actions.”

“He thought you were being unfaithful.”

“Yes, I know it was stupid of him.” Sherlock said.

“No, brother dear. Stupid of you . . . John didn’t misinterpret anything. You were fascinated by the woman.”

“I was not!”

“Then John had no reason to rush into the arms another alpha. He is just a stupid little omega.”

Sherlock spun and grabbed the lapels of Mycroft’s suit jacket. He shoved his brother hard into the wall. The older alpha’s head bouncing against the plaster.

“Brother dear, now is not the time to test me.” Sherlock growled. “John is my mate!”

“Caring not an advantage, Sherlock. It is clouding your reason. Moran was sent to draw John away from you. Moriarty is using John’s trust in his former commanding officer to distract you. The man will be coming after you again and soon.”

“I will be ready for him.”

“You weren’t ready this time.”

~221~

Moran watched as the two Holmes left John’s hospital room and walked down the hall. He could hear the two of them arguing. He moved quickly. He pushed the wheelchair into John’s room. The omega was still sleeping in the bed as the door silently closed behind him.

Moran stepped up to the basinet and looked down at sleeping baby. It smelled of a strange combination of Holmes and John. Like a beehive in a field. Moran hovered his palm over the child’s face. The child’s round head was smaller than the man’s hand. The sleeping child never stirred, he had no understanding of how much danger he was in. Moran glared at the baby . . . the living proof that John had given himself to someone else. He had been bedded by Holmes and not by Moran.

It would be so easy. Moran growled. It would be so easy to hurt Holmes. Kill the child and steal the omega. He smiled as he thought of the anguish he would cause the dark haired alpha. Just as he was going to close his hand over the child’s mouth and nose, he heard the soft mewing of John from the bed. He looked over and saw John’s face. The same face he had dreamed about for years. Relaxed in sleep, John looked younger. His mouth was in a relaxed curve and his eyelashes laid softly against his skin. Moran looked back at the child. The baby had the same face. The same gentle curve to the lips. The same slope of the nose and cheek. This was John’s child too. Moran could never harm John’s child, even if Holmes was the father.

He stepped back and went to the bed and looked down at John. He brought his hand up and cupped the young man’s face. John sighed and leaned into the touch. His mouth grew into a smile and he nuzzled into Moran’s palm. Moran could feel the warmth blooming in his chest. This was his John and now he would claim him.

He slipped his hand away and removed the syringe from his pocket. He was going to use it earlier at the pub but didn’t get the chance. He quickly injected the tranquilizer into the IV line feeding into John’s arm. In a matter of seconds, John’s breathing slowed and deepened. Moran gently lifted John from the blankets and placed him in the wheelchair. He tossed a sheet over John’s legs and attached the IV to the pole on the chair. He wheeled the omega out of the room.

Down the hall he could still hear the two men arguing. Moran smiled as he wheeled John to the lift. He waited for the door to open then he quickly wheeled the unconscious man into the lift and off the floor. The doors were closing when the second lift pinged, announcing its arrival. Moran watched as an elderly couple walked passed the closing doors. They were carrying some plant with blue flowers.

Moran smiled. John liked blue flowers. He wondered how long it would take Holmes to realize he had lost.

~221~

Violet and Timothy Holmes stepped off the lift and into the postnatal recovery unit. Timothy carried the plant with the blue flowers that Violet insisted upon buying for John. They checked with the desk nurse as to the room their son-in-law and brand new grandchild was in. As they started down the hall to John’s room, the familiar sound of their sons arguing could be heard. Timothy sighed as Violet quickened her steps and went to intercept her boys.

“Myc, Sherlock! Stop it at once!” Violet hissed at the two men.

Mycroft rolled his eyes as Sherlock turned to face his mother.

“My name is Mycroft.”

“Mummy . . .” Sherlock said.

“I don’t know what started it this time, but now is not the time to be petty. John is in there recuperating from bring my grandson into this world. You two are to behave!”

Both men looked chastised and nodded to their mother. Timothy took his wife’s elbow and turned her to John’s room. They knocked on the door before they walked in. Sherlock waited a moment before following his parents.

“Mycroft, you are not to mention any of this to John. I will protect my family, myself.” Sherlock warned.

“Well, it is about time you did.”

Sherlock walked into the hospital room and saw his parents over the baby’s basinet. His mother was transfixed on the small child. Sherlock glanced at the bed and saw it was empty. He quickly looked around the room, expecting to see his mate sitting in the chair.

John was not in the room. Sherlock turned quickly and rushed out of the room and down the hall. Mycroft came in to see the surprised look on his father’s face.

“Myc, where is John?” The older Holmes asked.

Mycroft looked at the bed then rushed forward to check on his nephew. The baby was sleeping calmly wrapped tightly in his swaddling cloth.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, father.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonder comments and encouragements. It really does help in the writing process to know people are enjoying the story. Just a few more chapters to finish up the story.


	12. Chapter twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up captured by Moran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to everyone who was rooting for Moran. There has to be a bad guy and he is it.

John expected to wake up to the smells of a hospital; bleach, industrial cleaner and illness. He didn’t expect to wake to the smell of cigarettes and gun oil. The clawing smell of dirt and sweat. It reminded him of the desert, of Afghanistan. For a moment he was transported back to his tent at Sangin and the heat of the Helmand Province. It took him a moment to remember his life since Afghanistan wasn’t a dream and he wasn’t still in the army.

He stretched his body and felt his sore muscles tighten in complaint. He reached and cupped his stomach. It was soft and not as firm as it had been. Yes, his son had been born. He was a father. John smiled and stretched again.

“Sherlock?” He asked as he opened his eyes.

This couldn’t be right. He wasn’t in a hospital room. It wasn’t Bart’s.

He was lying on a full size bed in a dinge bedroom with a single window. The light was filtered through heavy Venetian blinds that were closed. The walls were grey and a bare lightbulb hung by a cord from the ceiling.

John sat up and looked around himself. Besides the bed, the only furniture in the room was a bed stand and a wooden chair. John didn’t see a cupboard or a door for a closet. There was only one door and there was a light coming in from underneath it.

He was still wearing the hospital gown they had changed him into after William was born. William! John quickly looked around the room but his son was not in there with him. He tossed the covers off his legs and tried to stand. His legs quickly gave out underneath him and he crashed to the floor. His head was pounding. He thought he was going to throw up.

The door opened with a bang and John looked up to see a tall broad shouldered man step into the room.

“John! What the fuck are you doing down there?!” Moran said as he rushed to the omega’s side.

Carefully he wrapped his arms around John’s chest and helped the fallen man back into bed.

“Seb, where’s my baby?! I’ve got to find William!”

“Don’t worry about the pup. You need to rest . . . let me get you some water.” Moran was pulling the covers back over John’s legs. He stood up straight, but John grabbed his wrist.

“No, my baby! Where is he!?” John pleaded.

“He’s with his alpha, John. Don’t worry. I’ve got you now. You are safe now.” Moran said as he gently smoothed down John’s hair with his free hand.

John looked confused up into the man’s face. John’s eyes enlarged as he stared up at the man. The colonel had never touched John like that before. It was such a comforting and intimate gesture by the man.

“Colonel, where am I? Why am I not with Sherlock and William?” He tried to not sound scared. He tried to sound like a confident soldier speaking to his commanding officer.

Moran cupped John’s face with his hand. “It’s alright John, you’re with me now. I will be your alpha. I will take care of you.”

Moran leaned forward and kissed John’s surprised mouth. John tried to pull away, but Moran slipped his hand behind John’s neck and held him tight. John squirmed and fought to push the alpha away. Moran pulled back as John shouted into the man’s face.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I’M BONDED TO SHERLOCK!”

“But he is not right for you. You need a strong alpha to take care of you.”

“I DON’T NEED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF! WHERE IS SHERLOCK?!”

“Calm down John . . . I’m going to let you rest. In a while you will feel better. Sleep now.”

John started to get out of the bed but he alpha growled at him. John narrowed his eyes and went to punch the man. Moran predicted John’s movements and grabbed John’s wrist before the man could swing. Moran twisted John’s arm and flipped the omega over on to his stomach, pinning his arm to his back. Moran laid down over John’s body. Crushing the omega to the soiled mattress.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You are mine now, and I won’t tolerate disobedience in my omega. Do you understand?” Moran said in a deep growl. John grunted and tried to kick back. “You need to heal from giving birth to that mutt for Holmes. But later you will be mine. I will take what is mine.”

“GET OFF ME!” John gasped under the man’s weight.

Moran laughed darkly and started to kiss the back of John’s neck. Nipping at the tender tissue.

“Sherlock and I bonded during my heat! You can’t break that!” John panted out as he tried to wiggle away from Moran’s assault of his neck.

“Then I’ll just have to bond with you during your post-partum heat.” Moran started to undulate his hips into John’s arse. “Imagine the beautiful blonde pups we will have. I may have to keep you pregnant all the time.” He laughed as John grunted and tried to move away.

“Please, Colonel . . . Seb, stop!” John pleaded.

Moran shift and lifted himself off John’s body. The smaller man stayed motionless on the bed as he tried to catch his breath. Moran laughed again while he watched John.

“I have waited for this . . . waited to have you for my own . . . as soon as you are well enough to travel we are going to disappear. I’ve been squirreling away money waiting till we could escape.”

John rolled over onto his back and looked up at Moran. He didn’t look anything like his commander. There was an eerie burning light behind the man’s eyes. John scooted up onto his knees and backed away from the alpha.

“Seb . . . you can’t take me away from my child . . . please.”

“I will give you more pups. I’ll fuck a dozen into you each time.”

The thought made John’s stomach revolted and he twisted up into a ball. He started to shake. Moran’s anger started to bleed away as he watched John suffer. He moved across the bed and slowly started to rub John’s back.

“John it is for the best.”

John made a muffled sound into his arms.

“John, Moriarty will harm you if you stay. Holmes can’t protect you, but I can. I won’t let anyone tie a bomb to you again.”

John rolled over and looked up into Moran’s grey eyes. “A bomb? How did you know about the bomb? It was kept out of the papers. No one outside of the investigation knew Moriarty had tried to kill me with a bomb. You were there, weren’t you?”

John pushed himself away from Moran. John focused on the older man’s face trying to read it. Moran tried to look neutral, not divulge anything, but the alpha could not hide the truth from John.

“You saw what he did. Were you the one holding the scope on me? Were you going to shoot me?”

“I would never hurt you, John. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. Believe me!”

“Believe a man who kidnapped me from my child and alpha.”

Moran moved quickly. He grabbed John by the scruff of his neck and shook him. “I am your alpha now! Remember that. Your pups will be my pups. I don’t want to ever hear you mention Holmes’ name again!”

John thought about shouting Sherlock’s name, but he saw the primal hatred in the man’s expression. He didn’t know what had happened to his colonel but that man was no longer behind the watery grey eyes. John let his eyes move quickly around the room. There was nothing he could use to fight back with. His body was too weak to be of any threat. Even if he could run away from Moran and get out of the room, he had no idea where they were. John pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head into knees. Maybe if he played the helpless omega, Moran would let his guard down. Give John a chance to think of some way to escape.

Moran moved closer and pulled John against his body. He dragged his fingers through John’s hair. The smaller man tried to not shiver or revolt against the touch. He forced himself to remain very still. Moran pushed and pulled John around till the young man was spooned up against the alpha in the bed.

“Sleep, John. When you wake you will feel better.”

John didn’t plan on sleeping again. He planned on killing the man beside him.

~221~

Mycroft had guards standing by the nursery and at the every exit to the hospital. His driver had taken his mother and father home. He reviewed the information sent to him by his assistant, Anthea, regarding the CCTV feed showing Sebastian Moran wheeling an unconscious John Watson from the hospital. The car he had been put into was lost in the traffic and Anthea had not been able to track where it had gone once the car drove over the river heading south.

Mycroft glanced up from his mobile to see his brother pacing the hospital room. The man’s small infant son in his arms. The baby was asleep but would soon wake and cry out for his papa. For John.

Mycroft had never seen Sherlock as distraught as he was now. He watched as Sherlock paced and held his son close. Mycroft had never realized how important John had become to Sherlock. The older brother felt a weight pressed upon his chest. He was as equally responsible for Sherlock’s infatuation with Irene Adler. He had thrown her at Sherlock without knowing how tempting she would be to him. Mycroft desperately wanted to ease his younger brother’s fears but he was at a loss.

“I don’t believe he will harm John.” Mycroft said trying to grasp for some comfort for his brother.

“Of course he won’t, not until Moriarty gives the order.” There was a harsh edge to Sherlock voice. His long fingers cradled William’s head.

“Moriarty could know we had broken Adler’s code and gotten into her camera phone. He may plan to use John as simple leverage.”

“No, but there must be another plot playing out that I’m unaware of. Something that is big enough for Jim Moriarty to risk kidnapping John from a hospital. Sending his alpha in here where he could easily be spotted.” Sherlock kept pacing.

“Do you believe, Moriarty is aware of Moran’s connection to John?”

“Do I believe Moriarty would use John’s loyalty to his fellow soldier against him? Yes, in a heartbeat. But what I don’t understand is why John would trust someone as loathsome as Moran. A hired killer.”

“Maybe the man John knew wasn’t loathsome. You’re letting your personal emotions color your observations.” Mycroft said. His mind beginning to spin away from the initial assessment.

“What are you saying? That this Colonel Moran is a good man. That he just made a mistake bonding with Moriarty?” Sherlock jeered at his brother.

“Sherlock, it had been over two years since John was with Moran in Afghanistan. There is no telling what happened to that man in that time.”

Sherlock turned and looked at his brother. “You said, Moran and Moriarty bonded eleven months ago.”

“Yes.”

“After Moriarty threatened John and I at the pool . . . There were snipers there . . . They had their rifles trained on John. Do you think?”

“One of the snipers was Moran. He saw John with you. You think he saw someone he used to serve with . . . someone who had been important to him. Is it possible that he wants for himself and Moriarty is just as much in the dark as we are?” Mycroft said.

“What would be the chances this has nothing to do with Moriarty and everything to do with Moran and John?”

Mycroft began texting on his mobile.

“I will learn the truth soon enough.”

Sherlock looked down into his son’s sleeping face. He hoped for once his brother was correct.

~221~

John did not fall back asleep. Moran snored softly behind John’s body. John could smell his sour breath over his shoulder. John wished he was wearing more than the thin hospital gown. It did nothing to protect his modesty. Moran’s hands wandered across John’s body as the alpha slept. Twice John had grabbed the man’s wrist and physically removed the hand from areas of his body. The third time, Moran growled deeply as John tried to move the hand. Moran slipped it back low over John’s exposed hip. His fingertips grazing dangerously close to John’s cleft.

To keep Moran’s touch from reaching John’s most private parts, the omega was forced to back further into the alpha’s body. Moran hummed. He moved his arm up to John’s chest and wrapped it tightly around. John was still uncomfortable but at least he didn’t have to worry Moran was going to start fingering him.

John laid still listening to the rain hit the window. It was dark now and John was not sure if it was the night after his son was born or several nights after William was born. He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious. How long had Moran kept him drugged?

John listened to the rain and thought about Sherlock. He remembered how much he enjoyed making love to Sherlock while the rain pattered on the windows. The soft drumming of the droplets as the two would tangle themselves in the warm sheets of their bed. John loved to be passionate with Sherlock in the late afternoons. When they were guaranteed privacy from the interruption of the day. Afterwards, he would lay with his head on Sherlock’s chest as watch the rain drops slide down the glass, giving the world beyond their insulated nest an abstract appearance. Separating them from the outside. All that really mattered was what was happening in that small bedroom and between those two lovers.

John closed his eyes. He knew Sherlock would be looking for him. He knew Sherlock would never rest till he found John. Nothing would stop Sherlock. John tried to hold tight to that knowledge that he mattered to the detective. That John was important to the remarkable man.

John opened his eyes again and listened to Moran’s breathing behind him. It was obvious the soldier was asleep. John tried to shift and move away. Moran grunted and pulled John back again. John then tried to roll and move to the side. Moran scooted closer and flopped his leg over John’s trapping him to the bed.

“Seb . . . I need to get up.” John whispered into the darkness.

“Go to sleep, John.”

John huffed and pinched the arm wrapped around him.

“Seb . . . I need to use the loo. Let me up.”

Moran lifted his head and looked down at the man partially lying underneath him.

“Oh . . . sorry, I didn’t think.”

To John’s surprise, the alpha pulled back and let John sit up, unhindered. John sat there a moment then looked around the dark room.

“Where is the khazi?”

“Next door. On the left.” Moran swiftly stood up and held his hand out to John to take.

The omega looked at suspiciously, then took it and let the alpha help him. Moran went and opened the door for John. The omega followed the taller man out into the dark hallway. Moran led John down the hallway to the bathroom. Then reached in and turned on the light for John.

The bright light blinded John for a moment. He paused and looked into the dingy room. There was a tub and sink. The fixtures were stained with rust. The seat on the toilet had been replaced over the years and was a different color from the porcelain base. The vinyl floor was scuffed and worn.

John glanced at the sleepy Moran, before he stepped into the room and started to close the door. Moran grabbed it and pushed it open.

“There’s not even a window . . . how the fuck am I supposed to get out . . . give a bloke some privacy.”

Moran looked at John for a moment, then let the door be closed. John looked around the room and realized there wasn’t much in the way of a weapon in the small room. He turned the facet on, the water spit once then flowed out of the spigot. It was grey and cloudy. John opened the mirrored medicine cabinet that hung over the sink. There was a bottle of paracetamol, tooth paste, a box of plasters and an old used toothbrush. The shower tub was empty, no shampoo or body wash.

John sat down on the toilet and put his head in his hands. He had to think. He needed to escape.

Moran knocked on the door after just a minute.

“Hurry up, John.” He said through the closed door.

“Yeah, yeah . . . give me a minute.”

John flushed the toilet and stood up. He looked at the contents of the medicine cabinet again. It wasn’t much but it might be his only chance. John took the toothbrush and closed the door. He palmed the brush as best he could and turned the water off in the sink.

John knew he needed to attack Moran before they made it back to the bedroom, but John wasn’t sure how to get out of the house. He turned off the light. His eyes started to adjust to the darkness. He waited. Moran knocked on the door again.

“John? . . . Are you done?”

Moran tried the door handle and it opened quickly. John’s eyes were adjusted to the darkness and he saw Moran clearly in the minimum light seeping through the windows from outside. John lunged forward and drove the handle of the toothbrush into the notch in Moran’s throat. Instantaneously choking the man.

Moran stumbled backwards in pain, gasping for breath as he raised his hands to his throat. John leaped forward and rushed down the hall. Moran reached to grab John but only caught the hem of the hospital gown. The worn cloth tore easily. John stumbled but was able to stay on his feet as he ran. Moran’s momentum to pull John back made him fall when the cloth gave way.

John put his hands out and let his fingertips skim along the walls as he ran down the hall. He saw the gapping blackness of an opening and rushed through it into large black room. A small line of light crept around the curtained windows. John disappeared quickly into the inky darkness. He stumbled forward and found the round doorknob. Quickly, he yanked the door open. The light from a streetlamps flooded in. The pale pinkish light brightened the room. John took a deep breath, but before he could slip outside, a shadow moved to block him. John stumbled backwards, tripping over some unseen object. He fell backwards, feeling arms wrap around his chest. Moran caught the falling man. The two crashed to the floor together.

The black shadow stepped further into the room and stood over the two men sprawled on the floor.

“Hello, Johnny Boy . . . Tiger . . . Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments. It has helped a great deal. I have chosen to rewrite the last three chapters. Please be patient it will be a few days before the next chapter.


	13. Chapter thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock discovers Moran's hide out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story. Sorry about the delays in updating. But just two more chapters to go. Thanks for the wonderful comments and suggestions. I'm glad you have been enjoying the story.

Sherlock kept pacing around the basinet as the small child wailed. The sound was heartbreaking. Every time a nurse approached the alpha would growl and the nurse would have to retreat. Irrational fear was flooding Sherlock’s blood stream. He had already lost John, he couldn't bear the thought of someone taking his son away too.

Sherlock knew he needed to leave. He needed to go out and rescue his omega but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his child. He couldn’t walk away from his pup. What would John say if Sherlock allowed anything to happen to William?

He knew he had to bury his emotions and focus. The only way he was going to save John and bring him back to his son was to become a machine. Indifferent and impassive. But John had made him feel. John had fashioned a heart and placed in Sherlock’s chest. He had set the heart beating. It drummed to the whims of the omega. How was Sherlock supposed to work now . . . without John to give him the guidance he needed? The omega was more than a mate, more than a companion, he was Sherlock’s heart. The alpha had no idea how it happened but John become the center of his world. The gravitational pull that kept the genius tethered. Sherlock felt he was drowning knowing John was in danger.

Sherlock was despondent. The thought that John was with Moriarty made the man’s blood run cold. Emotions were confusing Sherlock’s ability to think clearly. He wanted to rush out into the darkness and save John. While he also wanted to remain and protect William. The two loves of his life were pulling him in opposite directions.

Sherlock had set his homeless network out before he had even received news that Mycroft had failed to track the car. He had been receiving texts all evening from around the city. Most he quickly disregarded as false leads. Then a real lead came in. He had been contacted by Raz with a photo of the car and Sherlock needed to leave, but instinct was holding in the room with the crying child.

The door opened and the round face of his mother appeared. Her violet eyes were damp with tears. She rushed forward and hugged her son tightly.

“Go . . . Sherlock . . . bring John back to all of us.” She said even though she pulled her anxious son into a hug.

The warmth of pack came to Sherlock. His fears eased as he breathed in the familiar scent of his mother. He felt the tension ease slightly between his shoulder blades but a vice grip still surrounded his heart. Sherlock took a brief moment to gather strength from the smaller woman. Her confidence in him and love of him helped Sherlock focus. He pulled back and nodded before he watched her pick his son up and cuddled the child. William stopped crying; muted whimpers replaces the screams. More pitiful instead of demanding. Sherlock turned quickly and fled the room. He knew he couldn’t stay and if he turned to see his mother and child together, he would.

He quickly hailed a taxi as soon as he was out on the pavement. In the backseat of the cab, he reviewed the text from the Raz. The car had been seen in a counsel flat in Peckham. It was going to take over half an hour to reach the housing project. Sherlock wished he could convince the cabbie to speed.

His phone pinged letting him know he had received another text. It was from Raz. There were several photos. Sherlock opened the file. There were four quickly taken photos. In one, Sherlock could see an external of the building with a large dark car parked in front. He saw several men stepping out of the building. Men were surrounding two others. Sherlock could see John’s blonde hair. A tall man was grabbing John by the arm, pulling him along. The man standing next to him was James Moriarty. The next photo showed John being shoved into the back seat of one of the cars. The last photo was of the license plate as the car passed the camera.

Sherlock sat wondering if he should relay the photos on to Mycroft. A cold chill ran through Sherlock’s body. Moriarty had John. The criminal had promised Sherlock that he would burn the heart out of him. Moriarty easily deduced that John was Sherlock’s heart. Could Sherlock get there in time or would Mycroft be more effective?

Sherlock’s phone pinged again, another message was coming through. He quickly opened the text believing it was from Raz. It wasn’t. It was a photo of John, dressed in his hospital gown. The omega was sitting on a floor somewhere dingy. Moran was cradled in his arms. The thin gown was shifted and John’s thigh and waist were exposed to the camera. Moran was laying his head on the omega’s lap. John’s arms were wrapped around the man’s shoulders. .

Sherlock felt the stabbing twist in his chest. John, almost naked, holding another alpha. Comforting another alpha. Sherlock gripped his phone tightly. He stared at John bare leg and the visible curve of his hip and flank. No one was to see John naked. No was allowed to know how soft and smooth John’s skin felt.

Sherlock looked at the incoming text message.

“Caught Johnny Boy entertaining Tiger. Don’t bother looking for him. I’ll take good care of him.”

Sherlock dropped the phone to the floor. He was shaking. He struggled to not throw up.

~221~

Moriarty stood in the doorway looking down at Moran and Watson. The two were collapsed on the floor. Moran’s arms wrapped tight around the omega.

“James . . . how did you find us?” Moran said tightening his hold on John.

“Tiger, there is nothing you do that I don’t know about. I knew months ago about this little love nest of yours.” Moriarty stepped further into the room. Three men followed him into the room and flanked him. He looked down at John’s face. The hatred the omega had for Moriarty was vividly evident in John’s blue eyes. “Tut . . . tut . . . tut, Johnny Boy, what would dear old Sherlock say about you rolling around on the floor with another alpha?”

John elbowed Moran hard in the stomach and pulled out of the man’s arms. Forcefully pushing the bigger alpha away from him. John stood up and stared straight at the other omega.

“So it was you who was behind this, not the Colonel?” John growled.

“Don’t be boring, Johnny. My bond mate came up with this all by himself.” Moriarty glared at Moran. “Apparently, he forgot about our bond. He decided he wanted an idiot for a lover.”

“I am not the Colonel’s lover . . . never have been, never will be!”

Moriarty laughed. “I don’t think you get a vote in it, Johnny Boy. It is obvious that dear little old Tiger has a thing for his pet doctor. Probably has for a while.”

John glanced over and saw Moran’s eyes following him. Moran slowly stood and took a step towards John. The doctor stepped back away from the man.

“He may have been my mate but he’s been stalking you since the pool. Every time we were London, he sought you out and waited . . . waited for the moment when he could steal you away.” Moriarty hissed.

“Stalking? . . . I don’t . . . why would you be following me . . . you had an omega, you were bonded. I never did anything to make you think . . .”

“I’ve loved you since the first time I met you, John. When you told me to learn your name.” Moran’s voice was pleading with John.

“That was years ago.” John whispered.

“I’ve loved you for years.”

John shook his head. “But I’m bonded to Sherlock. We have a pup together.”

“I don’t care. You should have been mine.” Moran took another step closer.

“NO!” Moriarty shouted. “You were mine, Tiger! We bonded! And I don’t share my toys!”

Moriarty held his hand out and one the men standing to the side of him, placed a revolver in the out stretched palm. Moriarty’s fingers closed naturally around the grip and he twisted it up to look at the blued metal.

John froze as he watched the man purposely fumble with the gun. He did not doubt it was loaded. Moran also quit moving. He turned and stared at his omega.

“James? . . . What are you going to do?”

“Eliminate my problems.” The omega said twisting the barrel to look down the bore. Then he smiled and twisted the gun back around and pointed it at John. “Don’t you believe it would be the simplest answer to my problem? . . . Elimination?”

John did not dare move. He remained perfectly still as he watched the man pull the hammer back and cock the revolver. Moran started to rush forward.

“NO!”

Moriarty quickly turned and fired the gun. The noise was sharp and painful in the small enclosed room. The bullet tore through Moran’s left shoulder. The man stumbled backwards and crumbled to the floor as blood soaked through his shirt. John lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the falling man. Easing him to the floor. His trained hands immediately went to the wound.

“Get me something to stop the bleeding!” John ordered.

“Let him bleed.” Moriarty said. “Let the bastard bleed out and die a slow and painful death.”

“HE'S YOUR ALPHA!” John shouted at Moriarty.

The dark haired man smiled back at the blonde. His eyes were cold and soulless. He handed the gun back to the man to his right. John looked back down at Moran, who was gazing up into the John’s face. He reached up and brushed his fingers across John’s jaw and down his neck.

“I wanted you so bad it hurt, John. I wanted us to be together.” He whispered. “I had to survive to get back to you. I did what I did for you, John.”

“Colonel . . . Seb, I’m sorry . . . I didn’t know . . . I never . . . I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. We were friends.”

Moran closed his eyes and nodded. His hand dropped to his lap. John kept looking at his one time friend. His commander. The first alpha who ever treated him like an equal. He didn’t even noticed the flash from the camera phone until Moriarty spoke.

“There . . . proof for Sherlock of his omega’s infidelity.”

John glanced up at Moriarty who was looking at his mobile with a broad smile on his face. He hated the man. Truly and deeply hated Moriarty.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” John snapped.

“A photo of you coddling your true love . . . ex-Colonel Sebastian Moran.”

“Moriarty . . . you are an insane bastard!”

“Now, Johnny Boy . . . is that anyway to talk to the man who holds your life and that of your lover in his hands?”

“Colonel Moran is not my lover . . . he is your bond mate!”

Moriarty laughed. “Well . . . yes he is. We are bonded . . . but that didn’t stop him from wanting you.”

John looked down at Moran who resting against John’s body. The older alpha was looking up into John’s face. Moran closed his eyes and slumped in John’s arms.

Moriarty came closer and kicked Moran hard in the ribs. The man didn’t move, he didn’t groan. Moriarty waved his hand and two men came over and picked John up off the floor. Another man, held out clothes for John to put on.

“How can you do that to your bond mate?!” John shouted.

“Easy. He chose you over me.” Moriarty said. “Now get dressed. We are going someplace that will require your arse be covered.”

John stared at the man for moment. He could see something hiding in Moriarty’s dark eyes. A flash of emotion that John had never seen before. He didn’t know what it was but it frightened him more than the blank cold dark brown eyes he remembered from the pool. Slowly John dressed, trying to maintain some modesty with the other alphas watching him. He felt like he was on display and he wondered if this was the beginning of another horrible game with Moriarty.

John was pulled outside and tossed into the back seat of the car. James was already sitting on the leather seats. His attention was focused on something outside the window. The car jerked forward and way from the kerb.

“What are you going to do with me?” John asked. “Another explosive vest?”

“Oh, Johnny Boy . . . you are so predictable, so boring.”

“I would never want to bore you . . .”

Moriarty laughed. The sound made John shiver as if he was plunged into ice water.

“Maybe I should be more like you . . . should I take your bond mate home and be the good little omega for him? Suck him off whenever he snaps his fingers.”

“Sherlock? This is about Sherlock?”

“Oh, Johnny Boy, when has it not been about Sherlock?”

Moriarty quit smiling and glared at John. The blonde felt the hatred pour off of the other omega in waves.

“I did not encourage the colonel in any way. Not in Afghanistan and not here. I didn’t even know he was London until two nights ago.”

“Oh, I know that . . . but he knew you were here. He was the one who was holding the sniper rifle at the pool. Held it right here . . .” Moriarty tapped John’s forehead. “But it seems our little Tiger still loved his soldier toy.”

John tried to remain unemotional with the conformation that it was Moran who held the trigger pointed at Sherlock and himself.

“No, Seb has dreamed and wished and fantasized about you since he deserted from the army.”

“He didn’t . . .” John couldn’t believe the man. The Colonel would never have deserted.

“Yes he did . . . shot one of his own men and left with me and four tons of heroine. We celebrated in Singapore.”

John’s stomach was twisting as he listened to James Moriarty reminiscing about Moran. This was not his Colonel. Not the man who had been his true friend and leader. John wanted to throw up. He wanted to roll the window down and let the cold night air blow across his face. He tried but the windows were locked.

“Where are you taking me?” John asked watching the buildings and streets flow by.

“Do you think Sherlock dear will be happy to see his slutty omega again. I mean . . . not even a day after your pup is born and you are in the arms of another alpha.”

“I was kidnapped.” John said trying to not shout.

“Like he will believe that . . . maybe he’s already found solace in Irene’s welcoming arms.”

Moriarty smiled as he saw John flinch at the woman’s name.

“Sherlock will be with our pup.” Even to John, he sounded unconvincing.

“Well, we will see, won’t we?”

~221~

Sherlock went the address Raz had given him. It was a deteriorating row house with a broken gate and bare garden. The windows were broken and cardboard covered the smudged dirty glass. The door was standing open. No one was around. It looked more like a heroine den than anything else. The idea his omega could be inside a place like this twisted inside the tall alpha.

He opened the rusty gate and listened to the metal hinges scream in complaint. The concrete pavement was broken and crumbled under his footsteps. He slowly stepped up to the door and entered the building. It was dark. He found the light switch to the right of the door and flicked it up. The room illuminated by a two light bulbs in a ceiling fixture. The glass cover was long gone and probably broken somewhere in the garbage accumulated in the corner of the front room. The plaster walls were partially exposed under the torn and peeling wallpaper.

Sherlock took a step deeper into the room and fixed his eyes on the pool of blood on the wooden floorboards. The fresh metallic smell clung to the back of his throat and it made it difficult for the detective to focus. He closed his eyes and remember the photo of John getting into the car with Moriarty. John was not bloody. There was no indication he had been shot or injured.

Sherlock latched onto that one thought. John was not injured. The blood belonged to someone else. Sherlock stepped around the irregular shape and walked further back into the building. He found a bathroom. Dingy and dirty. On the floor by the door was an old discarded toothbrush.

He turned as walked down the hall till he found a bedroom. The only indication it was a bedroom was the presence of a bed. The covers were old and thread bare. He stepped in and looked around. There were no personal items. No clothes, photos, just empty food containers. He started to leave when he caught the scent. He paused and turned back to the bed. Stepping forward the scent grew stronger. John.

Sherlock reached down and picked up the thin blanket and held it to his nose. John’s scent was on the bedding. John had been here. He had slept here. But there was another scent. A scent Sherlock remembered from John’s skin. The scent of Sebastian Moran on the bedding too. He and John had slept together in this bed. Sherlock looked down at the narrow bed. The two men would have to been close together. Curved around each other to share it. Wrapped in each other’s arms.

Sherlock threw the blanket down. The searing pain in his chest pulled the air from his lungs. He rushed from the room and across the small house. Out into the bare dirt of the garden. Sherlock grabbed the rusty metal of the gate. He didn’t even feel the broken edge cut through his skin. He gasped for air.

John . . . his John . . . in the arms of another alpha. Sherlock knew he had no one to blame but himself. Moran had deceived John, but Sherlock had push John away by his callus behavior with Irene. He swayed and swallowed the bile threating to explode from his gut. He was responsible for John being led astray and now trapped by Moriarty. Sherlock blinked the tears back and promised himself. He was to blame and he would save John.

Sherlock stumbled along the streets. He moved across the city not noticing anything or anybody. Moving as if in a dream, his thoughts fixed in his mind palace. Flashes of every smile John had ever given him. Every touch. The sigh John made after his first sip of tea. The hum when he ate Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits. Then Sherlock remembered every desperate look John had given him during the affair with Irene Adler. John’s furrowed brow as he watched the two of them flirt. He could see the sadness growing in John’s blue eyes and the lines deepen around his lips. Sherlock had done that to him. Sherlock had pushed and John finally relented and fell into Moran’s arms.

Sherlock finally looked up and realized he was standing in front of the black door of 221 Baker Street. Their home. But it would be home again until he could bring John and William here. And he had no idea if he would ever be able to bring John back here.

He opened the door and moved slowly up the stairs. As if he was moving through water, his limps felt disconnected and unattached. His body moved despite his desire. He stepped onto the landing and looked through the open door of his flat. The scattered papers on the desk. John’s laptop next to his RAMC mug. The book opened face down beside John’s chair, just as he had left it.

Sherlock walked through the door and paused to look around his home. But it wasn’t a home. It couldn’t be without his family.

“Well, it took you bloody long enough to get here.”

Sherlock turned and looked at the man sitting at the kitchen table. He could see the man’s shirt was bloody under his open jacket. The blonde’s arm was leaning on the table, his hand resting on top of the 9 mm handgun.

Moran’s water grey eyes watched as Sherlock lunged at him.


	14. Chapter fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has two unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been very supportive through this story. Thank you. I've found it much harder to write this one and I really don't know why, but your comments have really helped me out. One more chapter to go.

“Well, it took you bloody long enough to get here.”

Sherlock turned and looked at the man sitting at the kitchen table. He could see the man’s shirt was bloody under his open jacket. The blonde’s arm was leaning on the table, his hand resting on top of the 9 mm handgun. Moran’s face was pale and lined. His hair was dirty and sweat had made it stick down to his scalp. He sat relaxed in the chair but it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain.

Sherlock lunged at him. Moran’s hand snapped up and brought the barrel of the gun right between Sherlock’s silver blue eyes. The dark haired alpha froze. He didn’t look at the gun, he watched the pained expression on Moran’s face.

“Where is John?” Sherlock demanded with the loaded gun pointed at his head.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you know! You took him!”

“James took him from me . . . after he shot me.” Moran said still holding the gun up but his hand was shaking.

“John?”

“No, James. He shot me and took John. We need to get him back.”

Sherlock leaned back and pulled away from the other alpha. He let his eyes travel up and down the man’s frame.

“Why would you help me get John back? I’m not going to let you take him away from me again.”

Moran sighed and lowered the gun. He set it back down on the table and winced as he shifted in the chair.

“You couldn’t stop me if I wanted to take John away but . . . but I made a mistake . . . I thought John and I . . .” He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. “Just help me get him back from James. He will hurt John and I . . . neither of us want that.”

Sherlock stepped around the table and sat down in the chair opposite Moran.

“No, I don’t believe either of us would want to see John harmed. But what mistake did you make? Why did your bond mate shoot you? Did he not appreciate your . . . infatuation with John?”

“It wasn’t an infatuation!” Moran growled. He turned and looked at Holmes. “You know him . . . you bonded with him . . . is it any great surprise to you that someone else would find him so . . . remarkable. Love him.”

Sherlock looked straight into Moran’s water grey eyes. He saw the ageless need there. The want and desire he was sure was reflected in his own eyes.

“No . . . John is beyond compare.”

“James . . . Moriarty hates him . . . I think it is because he is fixated on you. We must save John.”

“We?”

“Of course.” Moran said as if it was obvious.

“I could easily call the Met and have you arrested and go rescue John myself . . . or use you as leverage against Moriarty.” Sherlock leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs. His casual attitude belied the anxiety he was feeling.

“James shot me. I doubt he would be willing to trade me for John . . . But . . .” He looked up at Sherlock as his hand slowly moved towards the gun.

“You think he would trade John for me. Very predictable but improbable.”

“I would do anything to save John.”

“He is in this situation because you. You put him there. You kidnapped him.” Sherlock watch as the man across him seem to crumble at the accusation.

Sherlock’s mind immediately registered the inconsistency. If John had willing been with Moran, then the blonde alpha wouldn’t feel guilty about taking John. Moran also didn’t deny he had kidnapped John. He had taken John against his will. John had not been in that bed with Moran willingly. The sudden heat of rage rushed through Sherlock’s blood stream. Moran had forced John to be with him. How far had Moran gone? How much had John endured of the man’s advances?

He watched as Moran’s hand slipped back from the gun.

“I thought John felt . . . I thought we shared . . . I was wrong. I hurt John. I can never forgive myself.” Moran bowed his head and covered his face with his hand.

Sherlock grabbed the automatic and pointed it directly at Moran.

“If you forced yourself on him . . . if you raped him . . .”

“I didn’t touch John. I wanted too. I wanted to feel him in my arms. To hold him and kiss him and make . . . He loves you. I couldn’t . . . He kept saying you were his bond mate. Regardless of what I said or what I did he only wanted you . . . You and his pup.”

The anger started to melt. Sherlock watched as the truth crushed Moran. John loved Sherlock and the soldier could never change that fact. Sherlock eased the hammer down on the gun and flicked the safety. He slipped the gun into the pocket of his heavy coat.

“How long ago did Moriarty take John?”

“Three hours. I think I know where they might be. James has several safe houses around London.”

Sherlock rose from the chair and went into the bathroom.

“Moriarty won’t take him someplace you know of . . . nor would he take him some place I would think of.”

Sherlock returned to the kitchen carrying the first aid kit John kept for Sherlock’s mishaps during investigations. He set it on the table and flipped open the lid. Moran looked down at the suture set and the antiseptic spray with a numbing agent.

“Any chance at something stronger than paracetamol in the flat?”

Sherlock smiled. “John won’t keep anything stronger because of my history. You will just have to suffer through.”

Moran winced as he shrugged off his coat. Sherlock pulled on a pair of latex gloves and watched as Moran struggled to remove the cotton shirt. The fabric had adhered to the wound as the blood had dried. Sherlock grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled him forward to look at the exit wound.

“A through and through. Caliber?”

“Small, maybe a .38 nothing larger than a 9 mil.”

Sherlock went and retrieved a clean dish towel. He wetted it from the sink and returned to clean the wound. He sprayed the antiseptic spray on it, then used the surgical stapler to close the wound. He found a bottle of Ciprofloxacin in the kit and tossed it at Moran. The man easily caught it, turning it to read the label.

“John was always prepared for the worse.” Moran said with a sad smile as he looked down at the bottle of antibiotics.

“Yes, now to work. Where would Moriarty take John?”

The two heard the door open. There were soft voices, then the sound of a single set of footsteps climbing the stairs.

“Mycroft . . .” Sherlock said as he rolled his eyes.

He remained sitting across the table from Moran as his older brother stepped into the flat. Mycroft Holmes halted at the threshold and glanced quickly around the room. He finally rested his eyes on the two men sitting conversationally at the table.

“Sherlock, you should have notified the authorities as soon as you found your intruder.” Mycroft leaned heavily on his brolly.

“Brother, dear. You and your trained monkeys can leave.”

“We are here to take ex-Colonel Moran in. He is wanted by Her Majesty’s government.” Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on the two men sitting down.

“We are busy here, we don’t have time for your trivial pursuits. Leave Mycroft.”

The older Holmes glared at the back of Sherlock’s head. He stepped further into the room and twisted so his attention was on Sherlock.

“I have men waiting downstairs to take Moran in for questioning. He will give us John’s location. Now, either assist me in finding your bond mate or get out of my way.” He tapped the tip of his umbrella hard on the floor. It made a hollow sound as it rapped against the old wood floors.

Sherlock rose with incredible speed and grace. He rapidly grabbed Mycroft’s wrist and twisted. The man grunted and turned as his arm was rotated up and behind his back. Mycroft hissed as Sherlock shoved him forward and into the edge of the door jam. The wooden corner bruising the alpha’s pale skin.

“You think I’m unpredictable when I’m high, brother dear. Imagine what I am like when someone I care about is threatened. I need Moran to find John. I don’t need your interference.”

“Sherlock!” the hissed out between clenched teeth. “Let go of me or I’ll call my . . .”

Sherlock grabbed the back of Mycroft’s head and shoved it hard into the door jamb. The man’s skull bounced off the hard surface and his body went lax. Sherlock leaned his weight into his brother for a moment, checking the unconscious man’s eyes. Then Sherlock backed up and let his older brother slip to the floor.

“We have forty-five seconds before his train monkeys realized their master is out on the floor. We need to leave now. Can you climb?” Sherlock looked Moran over.

“I can do anything you can do . . . even when I’m shot.”

The two alphas ran up the stairs to the nursery. Sherlock gave the room a cursory look before he rushed to the attic access hole. He cupped his hands and Moran stepped into them. Sherlock lifted the man up just as they heard the sound of running feet coming up the stairs. Moran pushed the cover aside and pulled himself up into the attic. Sherlock leaped up and grabbed the edge of the frame. He pulled himself up and quickly slide the cover back over.

The two men moved as quietly as possible across the wooden joists and over to an attic window. Sherlock unlocked the window and lifted the sash. They could hear the men in the room below them. Sherlock and Moran crawled out of the window and on to the roof. Sherlock took off leaping over the neighboring building. Moran followed closely behind him. Within minutes they had run over the rooftops of several buildings and climbed down the fire escape of the last building. They were two blocks away from 221 Baker Street and heading away from the sirens of approaching police cars.

Sherlock looked at his mobile as he hailed a cab. The black car pulled over the kerb and the two climbed into the backseat. Sherlock growled softly at the message.

“My brother has promised to have me arrested on sight.” He slipped the phone into his pocket.

“Fine we escaped him, but we still have no idea where John is.”

“Moriarty would have taken him some place special. Some place where he would feel powerful over not only me and John but you.”

“You’re assuming he believes I’m still alive.” Moran said as he looked up at the driver to see if they were being listened too.

“Even if he believes you are dead, he would want somewhere he feels in control of all of us. Somewhere he had the upper hand.”

Moran turned and looked at Sherlock.

“You know there is only one place that fits all those requirements.” Moran said.

Sherlock nodded. “I know. It would be cruel to take John there. He would feel powerless.”

“James is a sick bastard. He would enjoy it.” Moran turned and looked out the window. “It won’t be a good location for us. We need to get him isolated and away from any chance of snipers.”

“Recommendations, Colonel?” Sherlock said coolly.

“The roof. If we can get him up there with John, then we are protected on one side. There aren’t any buildings on the east side that have a direct line of sight for a sniper.”

Sherlock nodded his head. He leaned forward and gave the address to the driver. Then he leaned back in the seat and pulled out his phone. He quickly turned it back on and texted Moriarty.

_‘See you on the roof.’_

He then shut his phone off again before Mycroft had enough time to locate it. Sherlock leaned back heavily into the leather seats. He closed his eyes and hoped John was alright.

“When this is over, you know I’m going to kill you.” Sherlock said casually.

Moran kept looking out his window. “I’d expect nothing less.”


	15. Chapter fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rooftop meeting.

The chlorine in air burned the back of John’s throat. He sat in the chair in the changing room. It was the same room and the same chair he had sat in over a year before. He kept trying to not remember what had happened last time he was here; but the panic kept rising inside him. He could feel the phantom weight of the explosive vest resting on his shoulders. He could smell the pungent smell of semtex explosive. It was all in his head but John was breaking out in cold sweat. The thought of Moriarty slipping another vest onto him was pour adrenaline through John’s body.

The mad man was sitting just a few feet away from John. He was looking at a recent message that he received on his phone. Moriarty read the text then hummed a delighted laugh. He looked up at John and smiled.

“Sherlock is going to make this interesting. So much more dramatic than even I was planning.”

He stood up and waved a hand at one of his men. They grabbed John by the shoulders and pulled the omega to his feet. John weaved slightly, his legs unable to hold himself steady.

“What are you going to do to Sherlock?” John asked trying to sound ‘not scared’.

“It’s not what I’m going to do to him. It is what is he willing to do to save you?” Moriarty smiled.

He turned and left the dressing room of the pool. The man behind John pushed him to follow. John stumbled then picked himself up and walked behind Moriarty. The dark haired omega walked passed the empty pool. The water was drained away because the pool had been abandoned. After the building was nearly bombed by Moriarty a year before, most people refused to allow their children to return to the pool. Schools stopped using the facility for swim meets and staff found jobs elsewhere. In the year since Moriarty had tried to kill Sherlock and John here, the building had been left to decay on its own. A notice pinned to the front doors announced the destruction of the swimming complex in the next few weeks.

Moriarty walked across the bare concrete pavement. His expensive shoes not making a sound as he walked. John’s and the man’s behind him sounded like tap shoes in comparison. Moriarty opened a door that led to a short hallway and stairs. He bounced up the stairs, excited by the text he had received. At the top of the stairs was a heavy metal door. Moriarty stepped aside while the guard pushed it open for him. Moriarty stepped out on to the roof as John was pulled out by the other man.

Moriarty looked over the sloped roof. There was a barrel dome over the pool area of white Plexi-glass. A narrow walkway stretched out on either side of it. Less than twenty feet wide. Then a parapet less than a meter high at the edge of the roof. Without employees from the pool to maintain the building, debris had blown in and gathered at the foot of the parapet.

Moriarty went to the edge and looked over at the ground. He turned back and smiled at John.

“Yes, this will do nicely. He might even live for a short time to suffer the pain of crashing into the pavement below.”

John scowled and tried to look defiant at the other omega. “You’re planning on pushing Sherlock off the roof?”

“No, that would boring. I’m going to make him choose to jump off himself.”

~221~

Sherlock and Moran arrived at the pool. It was the same one where Carl Powers had died. It was the same one where Moriarty had brought John too and put an explosive vest on him. It was the same pool where Moran finally saw John after being separated from him since he was shot. The very sight of the building sent waves of trepidation through the two alphas.

As they walked up to the door, they could see a chain around the door handles. When Sherlock reached for it, it slipped away and showed the door was unlocked and open for them. The two alphas looked at each other then stepped into the muted light of the abandoned building. They followed the walkway till they reached the access door for the roof.

Moran and Sherlock stepped out on to the roof. They walked slowly around the domed roof till they heard Moriarty’s mobile. Sherlock touched Moran’s arm and motioned for him to hold back. Sherlock slowly continued and rounded the corner till he could see John and Moriarty standing by the low parapet.

Moriarty held a Browning Automatic. He was waving it nonchalantly at the blonde omega. John was handcuffed, his wrists crossed in front of his body. His face was stern and he looked down at the ground ten feet in front of him.

“Well, Sherlock, here we are again.”

“Jim . . . John are you alright?”

John refused to look up at his alpha. Moriarty nudged him with the barrel of the gun.

“Go ahead, speak . . . like the good little pet you are.”

John looked up at Sherlock. The two locked eyes. He nodded at Sherlock then his eyes glances up and to the left of Sherlock.

“Leave Sherlock.” John said in his controlled voice.

“Why it’s just getting fun now.” Moriarty smiled and stepped away from John. The red dot from a sniper’s scope appeared on John’s chest. “Sherlock, what will you do for your omega? Are you going to be boring or are you going to surprise me?”

“Isn’t it obvious . . .” Sherlock said as he stepped closer.

“Well, is it biology or emotions? How pedestrian? How boring?”

“It is both. I made sure John and I bonded during his heat. It is the strongest bond that can be formed.”

Moriarty smiled. “Yes it is . . . good thing I wasn’t bonded during my heat. If that had happened then I would be in trouble. How long does a heat bonded omega last after his alpha is killed?”

“Aren’t you the one being boring . . . predictable?” Sherlock shifted and tried to move himself between John and sniper but couldn’t. “Heat bonded omegas have lasted as much as two years after the traumatic break of a bond. Most die within a few days, especially if they witness the alpha’s death. Unless they bond with another alpha soon after the death of their first mate.”

“Johnny Boy got between my alpha and me. I had to kill my alpha. Now it is John’s turn to suffer. He will get to see you die. He will get to watch you jump off this building.”

“And if I don’t accommodate you?”

“Then you get to watch a bullet tear though Johnny Boy’s heart.” He pointed the gun at John. Sherlock fought the urge to grab the gun away from him.

“All because Sebastian Moran fell in love with John years ago.”

"Sebastian Moran was perfect for me. He gave me what I craved. He was strong and handsome. He was tolerant of my eccentricities. He let me fuck him . . .” Moriarty’s face contorted in anger.

“And you shot him.” Sherlock said quietly.

“Moran was mine! He was mine and we were to rule the world together! Your omega took him away from me . . . I should do the same for him.” Moriarty stepped closer to Sherlock. “Maybe I should make you my new partner . . . my new toy.” The dark haired omega looked Sherlock up and down as he slowly stepped around the man. “If you agree to become my concubine then I will let you both of live. If you give yourself over to my pleasures . . . then Johnny Boy can return to his pup.”

“You sick fuck, Moriarty!” John shouted.

Moriarty laughed and stepped back towards John and padded him on the cheek.

“James . . .”

Moriarty froze. He turned slowly to see Moran step around the corner of the building and into view. The blonde alpha walked closer.

“Seb . . . I shot you.” Moriarty whispered.

“Yes you did . . . just one amongst many gunshot wounds. But our bond is not broken.”

He walked closer to the stun looking Moriarty.

“But I shot you . . . our bond . . . ?”

“Did you feel it break?” Moran said softly.

“No . . .”

Moran stepped closer positioning himself between Moriarty and John. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Moriarty’s shoulders.

“We are bonded.” He brought his hand up and brushed his fingertips down Moriarty’s cheek. He leaned forward and kissed James. His hand slowly moved down James’ arm till he felt the hand holding the gun. Carefully and smoothly he pulled the gun from James’ hand. “I am yours . . .” He kissed James again. “I will always be yours.’

His arms tightened around James. He brought up his hand and pulled James’ head to rest on his chest. Moriarty closed his eyes and smelled the masculine scent of his alpha. Moran rested his head on top of James’ head.

“The gunshot is not important, James.” He looked over at Sherlock. “What is important is what we do for our omegas.”

He suddenly pushed backwards, knocking John off his feet. Moran twisted and held Moriarty in front of him as the sniper fired. The bullet went through James’ back, just left of his spine. Piercing his heart and traveling out and into Moran’s chest.

Sherlock spun immediately and pulled Moran’s gun from his pocket. He fired in the direction of the sniper. A dark red mist burst from the man’s head as the bullet shattered the right front side of his skull. Sherlock turned back as John scooted across the roof towards to his alpha. Sherlock bent down and pulled John up. They stumbled to their feet.

Moran was still holding James tightly to his chest. He looked over at John and sighed.

“If only, John . . .”

Moran fell backwards over the parapet edge, pulling Moriarty’s body with him. The two plummeted to the pavement below.

“SEB . . . !” John shouted as he tried to rush forward. Sherlock held him back. He spun John and wrapped his arms around the omega pulling him tight.

~221~

The only light was the examination light that was right above the hospital bed. The rest of the room was cast in shadows and darkness. It was late, past midnight. John had been checked out and cleaned up. He was wearing a pair of surgical scrub bottoms. His shirt was off and he was laying on his side. William was snuggled up tight to John, suckling at the man’s chest.

John’s fingers were slowly stroking through the fine dark hair of his pup. His face was round and William already had the same cupid bow lips as his alpha. John watched as William pouted his lips as he drank hardily.

Sherlock stood in the corner, hiding in the shadows as he watched his omega and pup on the bed. He felt so isolated from the two people he loved more than anyone or anything else in this world. He felt so young, so juvenile to the scene in front of him. His fingers twitched. He wanted to touch, but was afraid to step forward.

“Sherlock . . . he is beautiful” John whispered. His whole being focused on the child.

“Handsome . . . beautiful isn’t used to describe males.” Sherlock said. His voice sounded like brittle glass.

“I would use beautiful to describe you . . .” John looked up and smiled at the alpha.

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I’ve never been . . . John, you should expand your knowledge of correct nomenclature.”

John’s face softened.

“Come here, you idiot.” Sherlock hesitated but stepped closer. “There is enough room for you too.”

Sherlock looked down at the bed and his small family laying in it.

“I don’t think it is safe. They warn against co-sleeping.”

“As long as we don’t fall asleep, we can share a bed with William. It would be good for emotional bonding if we are close together. Touching is very health for babies.”

John scooted closer to the edge, pulling William with him. Sherlock toed his shoes off and carefully eased into the bed. Hugging the edge as his long frame seemed to wrap around his omega and child without touching them.

“There isn’t this better?” John smiled up at Sherlock.

Sherlock was staring at John’s expression. The omega seemed to have soften. John seemed serene and contented. Sherlock found John was not only calming the child but the alpha too. It was peaceful and soporific.

“I’m sorry John.” Sherlock whispered.

“For what . . .”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better alpha for you. Moran was devoted . . . he cared very deeply for you. I do care, John, I just sometimes don’t know how to show it.”

Sherlock watched as John expression saddened. John looked away from Sherlock and back at their son.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“I understand . . . I just want you to know that you and William are the most important things to me.”

John didn’t say anything to Sherlock’s comment. He just kept smoothing William’s hair.

“John, can we be . . . our bond isn’t broken and I would do anything to earn your forgiveness . . . but if you want me to . . .?”

“Sherlock, this isn’t the time . . ."

“John . . .”

“No, Sherlock, I would be devastated if you left us alone. I love you! I will always love you . . . Sebastian Moran was my friend. I admired him . . . I admired the soldier not . . . not the man he turned into. I did not love him.”

“But he would have been a better mate for you . . .” Sherlock could feel his world collapsing.

“He was my friend, Sherlock . . . he gave me a chance when no one else thought I was worth anything. He was my commander and friend and . . . please Sherlock . . . I can’t talk about him anymore.”

“I’m sorry, John.” Sherlock started to rise up.

John reached over and grabbed the man’s shoulder.

“No . . . please . . . just stay . . . we are a family . . . you’re my alpha. Please I want you here.”

Sherlock laid back down as he watched William stop suckling and quickly fall off to sleep. No more tears, no more cries, no more sadness. John carefully rose and placed the child in the basinet then he came back and laid down next to Sherlock in the narrow hospital bed. He wrapped his arms around the alpha.

Slowly, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him closer. He rested his chin on the top of John’s head as the omega buried his nose into Sherlock’s neck. Breathing deeply the scent of the alpha. Sherlock held John close till he heard the soft breathing of the omega asleep. Sherlock thought about Moran and what he had said just before he died. _‘What is important is what we do.’_

Sherlock promised John would never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful support you have given me through this story. I hope you have enjoyed it. And I hope to be hearing from you for my next story.


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